Alchemy, Insane Bretons, and Angry Dunmer, Oh My!
by Dominae
Summary: A timid Bosmer, an extroverted Breton and a surly Dunmer certainly make a diverse and dysfunctional group. The one thing they can agree on is that the Emperor made a terrible decision when he chose them. OCXOC. The full genre is inside. Reviews are loved.
1. Alchemy and Insane Bretons

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**A/N**: The genre isn't quite right, since I couldn't put everything I wanted in. It's a bit more Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort/Friendship/Humor/Drama

Disclaimer: If I owned Oblivion, I wouldn't be writing this.

Líadain wandered the sandy shores of Lake Rumare, admiring how the crystal waters sparkled like jewels as they reflected the sun's hot rays. As she bent down to inspect some driftwood, a warm summer breeze accompanied by the smell of some nearby lilacs, and a dead fish, unfortunately, wafted by and lightly blew her dirty blond hair into her dark brown eyes. With a hand pale from remaining inside almost all the time, she tucked the wavy strands back into the leather band that bound her hair in a loose ponytail.

She crouched down on the white sand, her rough linen robes folding stiffly beneath her. She grasped the driftwood and tugged it in an attempt to dislodge the log. With one final tug, it came free, and she fell backwards in surprise. Pulling herself up into a sitting position, the small Bosmer ran her hands curiously over the wood. It was mostly smooth on top, but as she turned it over, she saw that the once light tawny bottom was now dark and rotting from water.

Líadain sighed quietly at the lack of any sort of moss growing on it. She had spent three days looking for ingredients, but so far hadn't found anything worth keeping. She tossed the wood carelessly over her shoulder, and blinked as she heard an 'oomph' from behind her. Líadain turned quickly around, and stood up. A small Breton with frizzy red hair pulled up into a sloppy bun was on the ground, with the driftwood in her lap.

Líadain blushed a dark red that nearly put the Breton's hair to shame and stuttered, "I-I'm so sorry, I should have been paying more attention."

She hurried over and extended a hand. The Breton pushed the wood off of herself , grabbed Líadain's hand, and used her for leverage to lift herself up. With a quick grin, the Breton laughed and said, "Do you always chuck wood at people, or do you just not like me?"

Líadain gave an uncertain smile and replied, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you. What were you doing behind me, anyway?"

The redhead ran a hand through her hair, and jerked her thumb at the nearby docks. "I was just coming down here to do some fishing, and I got curious about you. I'm Ginette, by the way."

She looked expectantly at Líadain as she extended her hand. Quickly shaking Ginette's hand, Líadain responded, "I'm Líadain, apprentice alchemist to Sinderion the Altmer." Ginette blinked at her slowly before smiling and saying, "You aren't from around these parts, are you?"

Líadain shook her head and replied, "I'm from Skingrad, I was just sent here to find some ingredients. No luck so far though." Ginette frowned and pointed behind her. "What about that? I'm no alchemist, but it looks kind of interesting."

Líadain turned around to look at what Ginette was pointing to, and nearly gasped as she saw the bright green plant that seemed to almost be glowing. She rushed over, and quickly drew out her wooden sample jar from her black pouch that she wore on her hip.

Carefully, Líadain removed the plant from the ground and placed it into her jar. Standing up, she nearly hit Ginette, who was leaning over her shoulder with an interested look. "I'm guessing that it's something you can use, then?" She said with a smile. Líadain nodded her head vigorously. It was all she could do not to squeal with joy. "Yes! It's a Nirnroot...Sinderion said that they're supposed to be incredibly rare, because they don't grow back like most plants. I can't believe it."

Ginette grinned and said, "I guess that's what you could call a stroke of luck, isn't it?" Without waiting for her to respond, she continued, "You said you aren't from around here. Where are you staying?" Líadain pointed at the Imperial City and replied, "Luther Broad's Boarding House. This is my last day here. I had planned to stay for longer, but Sinderion will almost certainly want this soon."

Ginette nodded. "Oh. Have you seen much of the city?" Líadain shook her regretfully. "I wanted to, but I've been so busy gathering ingredients. I just haven't had the time." Ginette let out a mock gasp. "Haven't seen the city!" She tutted, "That just won't work, Missy. You're coming with me right now, and you're going to see the sights." Before Líadain could say anything, Ginette had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her toward the majestic city.

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"Now, that is White Gold Tower. I'm certain that you haven't seen that yet!" Ginette grinned and pointed at the gigantic tower. Líadain rolled her eyes at her new-found friend, and looked up at the tower. Her mouth dropped open as she gazed at it. She had seen it before, but always from a fair difference away. "Catching flies with that?" Ginette poked her in the ribs with a smile.

Líadain reddened and closed her mouth with a faint smile. Grasping her hand, Ginette pulled her along. "Come on. We still need you to see the Arena." Líadain followed her quietly. She wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to see the Arena. She had heard that it was a bit gruesome, and she didn't really like the thought of people killing each other for money.

Líadain chewed on her lip doubtfully. She had spent most of her life in the company of Sinderion, and was a bit socially awkward. Then again, Ginette didn't appear to be the type to get easily offended. Líadain opened her mouth to tell Ginette that she wasn't sure she wanted to see the Arena, when she realized that they were already almost there. She dragged her feet slightly, but Ginette continue to pull her along.

By the time that Ginette had placed a small bet on the blue team and they were nearing their seats, Líadain had slowed down considerably. As they sat down, the gates to the Arena rose, and the fighters rushed out. Ginette grinned and leaned over to whisper to Líadain, "I'm glad that I bet on the blue team."

Looking at the yellow fighter, Líadain could see why. The blue fighter had a gigantic war hammer, while the yellow fighter had a small dagger, and was a rather small Imperial. She clutched her seat so tightly that her knuckles went white, and leaned forward in suspense as the blue fighter, a huge Nord, took a swing at the yellow fighter. The Imperial just barely dodged, and attempted to get a blow in.

As the Imperial lunged at him, the Nord grabbed him by the neck and tossed him into a bloodstained pillar like a ragdoll. Líadain cried out and covered her eyes as the blue fighter advanced on the still stunned yellow fighter. She grimaced as she heard a crunch, and the crowd cheered. Her eyes still closed, she started as she felt Ginette squeeze her hand. "Are you alright?" Líadain nodded slightly and slowly opened her eyes. As soon as she saw the smashed head of the Imperial, Líadain took back her words and threw up.

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Ginette gently removed Líadain's ale from her hands. She had already had two drinks, and Ginette didn't know how well she could hold them. From the way she was slurring her words after so few drinks, probably not very well. The last thing Ginette wanted was for Líadain to throw up again, she felt bad enough for taking her to the Arena. She sighed. She really should have known that the tiny Bosmer was too sensitive for stuff like that. And she had to admit, the fight had been a bit...bloody.

Ginette called Luther, the proprietor, over. She had no place to stay tonight, and it didn't feel right to leave Líadain alone. Especially not when she was drunk. Ginette had to lean forward to be heard, since the inn was rather crowded tonight. "You'd like a room then?" He asked, only half-listening. She could tell that he was keeping an eye on the large blond Nord sitting by Líadain. "Yes, please. Ten gold, isn't it?" Luther nodded, and took the coins that she gave him.

She started to turn back to Líadain, when she heard a loud, shrill shout. "Get your hands off of me, you big, blond dummy!" Surprised, Ginette saw that the person who had yelled was a rather intoxicated Líadain. Ginette nearly snarled when she realized the reason for Líadain's shouting.

The Nord had apparently had one too many, and decided that the Bosmer was too pretty to keep his hands off of. Ginette hurled all of her slight weight onto the Nord's back, and began to pummel him with her fists. Taken by surprise, he began to topple forward, straight onto Líadain.

She tried to jump out of the way, but as she was rather inebriated, she ended up smacking her head on a table, and knocking a Dunmer to the floor. As they fell to the floor, the last thing Líadain remembered thinking was that she would probably regret everything in the morning.

Then again, maybe she wouldn't remember.

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It starts off kind of slow, I know. It'll pick up the pace soon though.

Reviewers get a cookie!


	2. Hangovers and a Surly Dunmer

Líadain woke up slowly, her head pounding. Her mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton, it was so dry. She started to open her eyes, but quickly decided that was a bad idea, since the light added pain to her already splitting headache. As Líadain curled up into a ball, she felt someone give her a little shake. She groaned, and attempted to ignore whoever had done it. As she drew her legs up to her chest tightly, she yelped as a boot hit her rather hard in the shoulder. She heard a vaguely familiar voice snap at someone, and tell them not to kick her.

Deciding that she would rather not be kicked again, Líadain tried to stand up. Her eyes narrowed into slits, she staggered forward into a strange blur with red hair. The strange blur caught her easily, and Líadain closed her eyes once again. Putting a hand on her temple, she muttered a quick healing spell. Almost immediately, Líadain felt her headache fade to a dull throb. She opened her eyes hesitantly, and took a small step backwards as the blur came into focus.

Líadain blinked at Ginette, and looked around the room. The dirt floor, barred window, and door all resembled a jail cell. She frowned, and tried to remember what happened last night. She recalled heading into the inn, and then getting an ale or two. After that, everything was all fuzzy. Líadain seemed to remember a gigantic mountain falling at her, and she'd tried to dodge. "What happened?"

"You hit your head," Ginette replied gently. "And got me taken to jail," an irritated voice added. Líadain turned around quickly, and came face to face with a scowling Dunmer. "S-sorry. How?"

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Ginette grinned. "You knocked yourself unconscious, and fell onto him. He tossed you out of the way of that big brute," She jerked a thumb at the cell opposite them, where a Nord was laying on the floor, next to a Dark Elf with a disgusted look on his face. "but then the Nord fell on him, and took him out. Long story short, there was a bar brawl, and we all got dragged up here by the guards."

The Dunmer in Líadain's cell glared at her. She held out her hand, a bit frightened. "I-I'm L-Liadain." The Dunmer's angry gaze flickered down to her hand before returning to her face as he bit out, "Ralen Drathas." Líadain moved backwards, desperately wishing that she was anywhere but here. She'd never been able to handle people being angry at her. Ginette refused to be cowed by the scowling Dark Elf and poked him in the chest as she snapped, "It-was-an-_accident. _So stop being an ass, alright?" Ralen didn't stop glaring, but he did step back from the angry Breton.

Ginette moved protectively in front of Líadain, and continued staring angrily at Ralen until he finally looked away. Satisfied that she'd made her point, Ginette turned to look at Líadain, who seemed to be traumatized by the whole experience. Bemusedly, Ginette wondered if this was the first time she'd ever had a hangover. If it was, she was really quite lucky that she knew some healing spells.

Considering that Líadain had been out of it for most of the brawl, it was actually kind of funny that she'd been in the most pain. Ginette winced at that thought, and quickly rephrased it. It was actually kind of strange that she'd gotten the worst of it, and not Ralen, who'd had a gigantic Nord nearly crush him.

She could almost understand his anger, since he had pulled Líadain out of the Nord's path at his own risk, and then he'd been tossed into jail with them. Still, it didn't give him the right to be such a jerk to her. Sighing mentally, she turned to look at Líadain with a grin. "How's the hangover?" Líadain looked at Ralen warily before replying with a small smile. "All gone, thankfully." As Ginette was about to answer, she was interrupted by a female voice speaking with some urgency.

"Please, Sire, the messenger only said they were attacked."

An old, weary voice replied, "No, my sons are dead. I know it."

The feminine voice spoke again, "My job right now is to get you to safety." Ginette frowned as she tried to place the man's voice. It almost sounded like the Emperor, but as far as she knew, he didn't usually come for a stroll in the dungeon. Ralen seemed to be thinking the same thing since he said quietly, almost to himself, "That sounds like...the Emperor. I didn't think he came to the dungeons so often."

Their doubts were proven to be misplaced as the Emperor and three Blades came into view in front of their cell. The woman looked startled to see them there, but her look quickly turned to anger as she snapped, "What are these prisoners doing here! This cell is supposed to be off limits."

The Redguard Blade to her left cowered under her withering gaze as he stuttered out, "Th-the usual mix up with the Watch, I..." The woman waved her hand as she commanded, "Nevermind! Just get that gate open!" She turned her gaze to Ginette, Líadain, and Ralen as she spoke again.

"Stand back! We won't hesitate to kill if you get in our way." Ginette took Líadain's arm and gently pushed her back, since she still looked a bit shocked. If Ginette hadn't been so worried about what was going on, she would have grinned at the Bosmer's starstruck expression. She apparently had never seen the Emperor before. Ginette had to admit, she was a bit amazed to be this close to him too.

Ralen seemed to be evaluating the situation, and looked as if the Emperor's presence didn't bother him at all. The Redguard that had just gotten chewed out walked up to Ginette and jabbed a finger at the ground. "Stay put." If he didn't have a gigantic sword, Ginette would have given him a good talking to. But since he did, she held her tongue, and tightened her grip on Líadain's arm.

The Blade woman walked past them, and headed to the stone wall. Before she could reach it, though, the Emperor turned to Ginette, and addressed the three of them, "You...I've seen you, in my dreams..." Despite the fact that it was entirely possible that they were in a very dangerous situation, Ginette couldn't help but smirk as she thought, "That's kinda kinky."

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Ralen groaned mentally. All he'd wanted was a nice drink, and he'd ended up nearly having the life crushed out of him by a Nord, thrown into jail with two idiots, and now the Emperor was telling them that they'd been in his dreams. The Breton, Ginette, apparently didn't comprehend the seriousness of what was going on, since she was trying to hide a smirk. The Bosmer, _Líadain,_ he reminded himself with annoyance, was just standing there with a dumbfounded look on her face.

The Emperor continued, with a sad smile. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day." The Emperor sighed and whispered quietly, "Gods give me strength." Ralen opened his mouth to speak, but Ginette spoke first. "What's going on?"

The Emperor looked at her and replied, "Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me through an escape route, that just happened to lead through this cell." Ralen creased his brow in thought. He'd never put much stock in prophecies, but if what the Emperor said about his dreams was true, then it was a bit of a large coincidence.

The Blade woman shuffled her feet impatiently as she said, "Please Sire, we must keep moving." She pushed some stones in the wall, and it slid down, revealing a passageway. The quiet Redguard behind the Emperor smiled slightly as he brushed past Ralen and said, "Looks like today is your lucky day." Ralen disagreed. A lucky day would be if he'd never been thrown in jail in the first place.

Líadain wondered how she'd gone from gathering ingredients for alchemy, to following the Emperor out of a jail cell. She sighed slightly, glad for Ginette's protecting hand on her arm. If she managed to make it out of this place in one piece, she'd certainly have a story to tell Sinderion.

She followed Ginette and Ralen, keeping to the back of their little group as they moved through the underground passages. Líadain shuddered slightly. She'd never been very good in caves, probably due to her heritage. It always felt as if the walls were pressing in on her. Hugging one arm close to herself, she kept her eyes on the ground, careful not to trip. Líadain let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when they came to a large room. Her relief was short-lived, as she heard the female Blade yell "Protect the Emperor!" as she drew her katana.

Ginette pushed Líadain behind her roughly as assassins wearing armor that resembled something of Daedric crafting rushed at the Blades and Emperor. The female Blade leapt in front of the Emperor, and quickly cut down one assassin. As she checked to make sure that the Emperor was alright, another assassin took the opportunity to bring down his mace upon her head. A look of surprise upon her face, she crumpled. The assassin continued to rush at the Emperor, but the quiet Redguard tackled him. Líadain winced slightly as she heard a nasty crack, and the assassin's neck broke. The Redguard stood up, brushing himself off.

"That was the last of them."

The Emperor nodded, and looked down at the female Blade's lifeless body. "Baurus, is Captain Renault..." His voice trailed off as Baurus shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Sire."

The other Redguard looked down at Captain Renault's body with a grim look before asking in an almost angry voice, "How could they be waiting for us here?" He shot a suspicious glance at them, but didn't say anything. Baurus replied darkly, "I don't know, Glenroy. But it's too late to turn back now."

They turned to the Emperor. "Don't worry, Sire. We'll get out of here." Líadain shivered at the look in the Emperor's eyes. It was a look of resignation. It was as if he _knew _he wouldn't live. She'd never seen someone so calm. Ralen and Ginette appeared to have noticed it too, as they both looked a little disturbed. The Blades didn't seem to have realized that the Emperor clearly wasn't expecting to live, since they headed to the door leading further into the tunnels. Ginette made to follow them, but Glenroy held out a hand.

"Stay here. Don't try to follow us." Ginette pouted slightly, but stepped back. Líadain sighed as the Blades and the Emperor walked through the passageway, leaving them behind.

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Ginette sighed in irritation. She was now certain that the grumpy Blade, Glenroy, had it out for her. Why else would he make them stay? She huffed and gazed around the room. Líadain was trying to look anywhere but at Captain Renault's body, and Ralen was apparently searching for a way to escape. Ginette walked over to examine a rather large crack in the walls, that was making a rather interesting squeaking noise. As she bent over to inspect whether it could be broken or not, the wall smashed open.

Ginette yelped, and belatedly put an arm up to shield her face from the gigantic snarling rat. She slowly opened her eyes when she didn't feel claws digging into her skin. Ginette blinked at the shining purple bubble surrounding her, but didn't waste time. Gathering her strength, she punched the rat in the face. It went flying, and was quickly dispatched by the katana that Ralen was now wielding.

Still shocked, she dimly realized that it was Captain Renault's. Ginette stood up, and poked at the bubble that shielding her. She glanced at Líadain, who had a look of concentration on her face. She raised a questioning eyebrow, and the bubble disappeared.

"Do you practice Alteration often?" Ralen asked, voicing Ginette's thoughts. The Bosmer smiled shyly . "Not much. I know a few spells, but that one's rather hard for me. I can't hold it for long." Ralen nodded, "Still, it could be useful." Ginette laughed slightly. "It saved me from having my face all torn up by a rat. I'd say it's useful." Líadain beamed at the compliment, and pointed at the broken wall behind them, that now opened up to a passageway. "Maybe that leads to a way out."

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Ralen smiled as he saw the tunnel. It looked as if things were finally going right, even if he hadn't been able to take any armor from the assassins. He grasped the katana tightly, grateful for the blade. He'd didn't particularly enjoy taking the dead woman's weapon, but they'd would probably need it.

He had to admit, Ginette and Líadain weren't quite the idiots he'd first taken them for. Ralen still wished he'd never met them, but it wasn't so bad now that they had shown they didn't freak out in a fight, even if the tiny Bosmer had looked as if she might puke when she saw Captain Renault's body. Ralen looked at the two women standing behind him, and waved them over. "Follow me." They nodded, and he stepped into the tunnels.

Several rats, one zombie, and a few goblins later, their little group reached the Emperor again. Even though they were all covered in dirt and blood, Ralen was in a better mood. Ginette had a shortsword, and Líadain had a dagger, if an enemy managed to get close to her. She had looked more than a little bit anxious when he had given it to her, a contrast to Ginette, who had seemed almost bloodthirsty. The Breton had wanted to jump down and help the Blades when they were attacked again, but Ralen had held her back.

He'd seen the suspicious look they'd been given before. He didn't want to give them more reason to doubt which side he was on. As soon as the Blades defeated the assassins, they jumped down. Immediately, Glenroy snarled, "It's the prisoners again! Kill them, they might be working with the assassins!"

He drew his sheathed sword, but the Emperor's voice rang out. "No, they are not together. They can help us. They must help us." Ralen rolled his eyes slightly. As soon as he got out of these blasted caves, he would head to somewhere far, far away. The Emperor stepped closer to them.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They have not seen what I've seen." He smiled, but didn't explain further. Baurus sighed, but seemed resigned to the fact that the prisoners were sticking with them. "Just stay close and let us do our job. You'll be fine." That wasn't very reassuring, considering how well they'd done their job so far. Checking to make sure that Líadain and Ginette were still with him, he followed the Emperor.

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Líadain held her dagger tightly as Baurus yelled for her to keep the Emperor safe while they fought the assassins. She felt sweat form on her brow and palms from fear. She tried to ignore the sounds of battle coming from outside, and keep the shield around the Emperor. As she heard a scream of pain from outside, the purple bubble nearly vanished. The Emperor looked at it with a faint sadness, and turned to look at her. "I can go no further. You must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!" He quickly removed the shining necklace, and placed it in Líadain's palm. "Take the amulet to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion." Líadain looked at him, mouth agape. Before she could gather her wits, the stone behind him slid open, and an assassin leapt out. Líadain could only watch as the assassin's long dagger slid swiftly into the Emperor's back, and his lifeless body fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

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A cookie to Darth Sagn!

If you don't review, Líadain will cry.


	3. Death and Memories

Time seemed to be standing still as Líadain watched the blood pooling slowly around the Emperor's unmoving body. She could barely hear the sounds of battle outside the room the pounding in her ears was so loud.

She tore her gaze away from the lifeless body, just in time to see the assassin's bloody dagger swooping down toward her neck. Out of instinct, she brought her own dagger up, and just barely managed to block it. The red-garbed man was much stronger, and the blow made her stagger backwards and fall. He immediately seized the opportunity and lunged at her.

Adrenaline flowing, Líadain raised her arm to block her face, and the violet shield sprang up around her. The assassin slammed into the shield, and Líadain cried out in pain from the unexpected weight on her mind. The breath knocked out of her from the sudden agony, the bubble vanished.

His support gone, the assassin fell forward onto her with a startled yelp. Líadain closed her eyes, expecting to me death at any second. A few moments later, she felt a sticky warmth flowing over her chest, and she slowly opened her eyes. She whimpered as she saw that the assassin had impaled himself on the dagger that she held clutched in her hand when he fell forward.

Líadain desperately attempted to move the corpse that was holding her down, but could only move it a scant few inches. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore that her blood-soaked shirt was clinging to her chest. The coppery smell was threatening to make her sick, and she took shallow breaths through her mouth to lessen the stench. Líadain gathered her breath, and yelled as loudly as she could, "Help!"

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Baurus's eyes widened as he heard a faint shout for help from the room that the Emperor was in with the Bosmer. He cursed and looked around. The Breton and the Dunmer were busy fighting, and Glenroy had fallen. He turned and ran to the source of the cry.

Baurus swore at the sight of the Emperor's body on the floor. He heard a small whimper, and saw the Bosmer laying under the assassin. Still in shock from the Emperor's death, he walked slowly over and picked the corpse up off of Líadain.

She looked up at him with tears spilling down her cheeks. "I-I'm s-so sorry...I couldn't do anything." She choked slightly and wrapped her arms around her knees. Baurus narrowed his eyes at the amulet Líadain held clutched tightly in her right hand.

"You have the Amulet."

The Bosmer gazed at him uncomprehendingly until he gestured at the large red jewel. She blinked at it almost as if she was surprised before she muttered, "The Emperor gave it to me..."

Baurus shook his head in disbelief. "You? Why would he give it to you?"

Líadain flinched at his harsh tone, and said quietly, "He told me to give it to Jauffre and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

The Redguard looked at her in surprise. "Jauffre? He's the Grandmaster of the Blades. Lives his life as a monk at Weynon Priory."

Líadain nodded, but didn't say anything. Baurus sighed roughly. "The Emperor saw something in you three. What it was, I have no clue. All-"

He was cut off by a gasp. Ginette rushed over to the sitting Bosmer and wrapped her arms around Líadain, heedless of the blood.

"Are you alright?"

Líadain huddled close to the Breton and nodded. "Where's Ralen?"Líadain's voice was weak, but she was obviously concerned.

"I'm here."

Baurus looked over his shoulder at the Dunmer. He hadn't even heard him approach, which was slightly strange. "What happened?"

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Ralen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Apparently the Emperor had given the Amulet of Kings to Líadain, and told her to close shut the jaws of Oblivion, whatever that meant.

Baurus spoke up as Líadain finished telling what happened. "The Emperor saw something in you three. What it was, I have no clue. All I know for certain is that you'd probably better hurry to Weynon Priory."

Ralen frowned. "So you don't know anything about this heir?"

Baurus shrugged and shook his head. "No, it's nothing I've ever heard about. Jauffre would probably know, if the Emperor told you to seek him out."

Baurus pulled a necklace with a key on it out of his armor. "Here. This will let you into the sewers. There are probably rats and some goblins down there, but nothing you three can't handle."

Ralen took the necklace and put it around his neck. "Are you coming with us?"

Baurus shook his head. "I'm staying here with the Emperor...it's the least I can do."

He nodded. He could understand, even if having a Blade along would be useful. He could handle himself, and Ginette had showed some skill. Líadain had escaped with no physical harm, but he could see that she would probably suffer nightmares for a long while.

Her clothes were badly blood-stained, something that would have to be changed if they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. Ralen frowned in thought. He couldn't get an assassin's robe, since they were no less bloody. She was small enough for a goblin's rags to fit her, and would look like any other beggar. He smiled, his problem solved.

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Ginette gently stroked Líadain's hair as she held her close. She couldn't stand seeing her cry like this...it reminded her too much of something that she preferred to keep buried.

_'The young red-haired child curled up next to the small toddler, and tightened her arms around the sobbing four year old. She closed her eyes and clapped a hand around the bawling mouth and nearly screamed as she heard a man shout angrily and a woman shriek in pain.'_

Ginette opened her eyes quickly and pushed the memory back. She wasn't going to think about that. It didn't matter anymore. She picked herself up from the floor slowly and offered her hand to Líadain.

The Bosmer took it with a shaky smile as she sniffled. Ginette gave Líadain's hand a squeeze and released it as she looked at Ralen, the group's unofficial leader.

"Now what?"

The Dunmer glanced at her before turning his gaze to the Amulet that Líadain held clutched in her hand. "Líadain should probably hold onto the Amulet. If they're searching for it, they won't expect her to be carrying it."

Líadain nodded and tucked the Amulet into her pouch. Thankfully, the guards hadn't bothered to remove it when they'd tossed the three into the cell together.

Baurus pointed at the opening the assassin jumped from. "There should be an opening into the sewers from there. Good luck." Ginette nodded, and the three started off.

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Please review, it inspires me to write more. Thank you to all who read and reviewed.


	4. Rats and Wishes

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**A/N** Sorry about the shortness, and that it's not such a great chapter. School's been a bugger, and I haven't had much time to write. I should be able to get a decent chapter up by Sunday or Saturday. As always, please review. Even for this chapter. :)

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Líadain trudged slowly behind Ginette, thinking. She had killed someone. Even if he had murdered the Emperor, and it was in self-defense, his death still weighed heavily on her conscience. Her guilt probably paled in comparison to what Baurus was going through, she realized. After all, he had left his post for one moment, and the ruler of an entire Empire had died. Líadain looked down at her still blood-stained clothes, and fervently wished that she had never gone to the Imperial City.

* * *

Ginette glanced back at Líadain. The little Bosmer's face was downcast and lost in thought. Her tears had ceased flowing, but her eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed. She was rather withdrawn as well, but Ginette supposed that was to be expected. Líadain had almost certainly never been that close to a dead body, and she'd definitely never killed anyone before. Ginette cursed the Nine silently. She had a hard time believing in their supposed kindness if they allowed someone's innocence to be so brutally torn away.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ralen grimaced in disgust as his hand brushed against some slime on the wall. He quickly wiped his hand on his leather armor. He heard a faint gasp as Ginette almost tripped for the third time, and he absent-mindedly steadied her. Ralen mentally thanked his ancestors for his eyes. He and Líadain could see much better in the dark than Ginette, something that the Breton had complained about more than a few times. Thankfully, Dunmer had become extremely good at blocking her out whenever she began to whine about not being able to see.

Ralen walked carefully through the dank tunnels. He didn't want to slip and get a close-up of the floor. If they were anything like the walls, he would rather die than touch them. He yelped as his concentration was broken when he felt a something stab him sharply in his big toe. Ralen exhaled in irritation, and kicked the rat off of him rather roughly. This was definitely the last place in Cyrodiil that he wanted to be.


	5. Clouds and Changes

* * *

Ginette shaded her eyes with her hand as the bright sunlight hit them. The Breton blinked slowly as her eyes began to adjust them and she smiled, happy to finally be out of the darkness. She'd had enough of the dank tunnels, especially since they were crawling with rats.

Ginette glanced back at Líadain and Ralen as they stumbled out of the sewers, desperately attempting to shield their sensitive eyes. Líadain still looked disturbed, but she'd been looking less down since they had managed to dispose of her blood-stained robes and replace them with some pilfered goblin's rags. It wasn't that much better, but at least she didn't have a constant reminder of the death with her. Not to mention, she wasn't completely soaked in blood anymore.

Ralen was probably the most clean of them all, since Ginette had slipped and fallen into some of the murky water. The Breton scowled as she looked down at herself. She was practically coated in slime and some other unidentifiable gunk. Her leg still hurt where the mudcrab had pinched her, too.

She looked at the sparkling lake that she was standing in front of, and then glanced down at herself. She stared at the water again and reached for her armor. In less than a minute she had stripped down to her undergarments and removed the pins holding her hair. Without a second thought, she dived into the lake. Surprised by the icy feel, Ginette gasped in shock as the cold water enveloped her body.

Líadain looked up as she heard a loud splash, and her eyes widened as she saw Ginette swimming around in the lake, with the majority of her clothes lying abandoned on the shore. "By the Nine, what do you think you're doing!?" Ralen yelled, his harsh tone undercut by amusement.

Ginette grinned back at them, her eyes shining as she frolicked about in the lake. "I'm trying to get clean! Come join me!" Líadain stared at her, wondering how she had so easily forgotten that the Emperor had just died. She heard a slight sigh from beside her, and glanced over at Ralen. The Bosmer blinked in surprise as he carefully took off his armor and laid it down on the ground.

"Are you really going to do it?"

Ralen looked at her and shrugged. "I won't be long, I just wish to wash." Líadain frowned and tried to smile. The Dark Elf looked at her seriously, a bit of concern in his eyes. "Does his death still disturb you?"

Líadain folded her arms and looked down at the ground. She knew he wasn't just talking about the Emperor. "I have never seen someone die before. It was so sudden..." Ralen nodded his head, for once there was no disdain in his eyes.

* * *

"Death is never easy." He gently lifted her chin, and looked soberly into her eyes. "What happened was not your fault. You did what you had to." Líadain nodded silently, a weak smile on her face. Ralen studied her for a second more, and then abruptly removed his hand. He looked to the lake where Ginette was still swimming around, slid his shirt over his head and waded into the water.

Ralen ducked under the frigid water, and quickly came back up, water dripping from his hair. Ginette swam over to him, a concerned look on her face. "Is Líadain all right?"

He flicked his eyes over to the Bosmer kneeling in the shade by a large moss-covered rock, and replied quietly, "It's never easy to kill someone, especially if it's your first time. I think she will be fine, if she is given time. She's stronger than she looks."

Ginette smiled faintly at the Bosmer, her blue eyes worried. "She shouldn't have had to go through this...why did it happen to her, of all people?" Her eyes flashed with anger as she turned her gaze back to him. "What did she do to deserve that nightmare?"

Ralen shook his head sadly. "I don't know. Perhaps it was fate, or maybe she's just unlucky. Whatever the case, we should hurry."

* * *

Ginette grinned slightly. "You're right. We're probably tempting the slaughterfish." She turned as if to swim towards the bank, then suddenly lifted a hand, and splashed Ralen. Before he could recover, she laughed and began to swim off. Spluttering, Ralen started after her.

Ginette climbed onto the bank, and glanced backward at Ralen. He was still in the lake, but she'd gotten a head start. Chuckling, she pinned her hair up messily and pulled her clothes on. She didn't particularly like how her undergarments were wet and her clothes dry, but there was no way she was going to go skinny dipping in the lake. The last time she decided to do that, a particularly mean slaughterfish nearly took a chunk out of her. Not the best experience of her life.

Ginette glanced back at Ralen. He was close to the shore, but that wasn't going to stop her from teasing him. "Hurry up, slowpoke! We don't have all day."

She grinned as she heard him curse, and strode over to Líadain. The Bosmer looked up at her and patted the ground beside her in an invitation for Ginette to sit down. The Breton plopped down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. "You should have joined us. The water was wonderful."

Líadain raised an eyebrow. "Ralen looks like he's in a hurry to get out."

Ginette snorted and waved a hand. "Him? He's just a wimp. Can't take the cold."

"I'm no Nord either, Ginette." Líadain replied, laughing softly.

"By the Nine! You're not?" Ginette cried out in mock surprise, her face the picture of shock. Líadain shook her head, smiling. The Breton grinned, happy that Líadain didn't look so solemn anymore. Somehow, sadness didn't fit her face. It just looked...wrong. She definitely had a face that was meant for smiling. Ginette leaned back against the lush green grass, and looked at the clouds drifting by. She heard a faint rustle as Líadain laid down beside her.

"That one looks kind of like a bunny, if you squint a bit." Ginette looked at the cloud the Bosmer was pointing at and narrowed her eyes. It did resemble one, if you studied it carefully.

"I don't know, I think it looks more like a rat." Líadain leaned up on an elbow and stared at her incredulously.

"You just say that because we've seen so many of them."

"No, really, it looks like one. Kinda like the one that tried to kill Ralen."

"Who tried to kill me?" Ralen walked over to them and sat down with a sigh. "You'll regret what you did, Ginette."

Ginette glanced up at him and snickered as she stuck out her tongue. "I doubt it. You couldn't catch me if your life depended on it, slowey-joey."

Ralen's hand flashed out and snatched Ginette's tongue. Grinning, he replied, "Slowey-joey? What kind of insult is that?"

Unable to reply, Ginette glared at him as Líadain snorted with laughter. Ralen smirked and released her. She crossed her arms and huffed at Líadain. "Traitor."

The Bosmer tried desperately to cover her giggles with a cough, but Ginette only continued to glare at her. Composing herself, Líadain pointed at the sun. "If we want to reach Jauffre, we should probably hurry while we still have daylight."

Ralen nodded soberly. "You're right. We have a responsibility, even if it isn't one we really want."

Ginette nodded in agreement. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can be be out of this mess."

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**A/N** Yes! A decent chapter! And it was up earlier than I said by one hour! GO ME! Anyway, I have a poll up on my profile. If you have a suggestion just PM me or leave a review containing it. That reminds me! Thanks to all who read and reviewed! You rock! Am I forgetting anything? Let me think...I remember! Leave a review! Please, please, please! It inspires me and makes me feel loved. I would put an exclamation mark, but I've used up my quota for this author note.

Also, whoever catches the Psychonauts reference wins a bonus point. That's all. This author note is officially over. I swear. Leave a review, please. Push the button, you know you want to.


	6. Monks and Heirs

Líadain's pace picked up as the group neared Weynon Priory. They had been walking for two days, and she was eager to get rid of the Amulet. Just knowing that it was in her possession weighed her down, and made her feel like she had a great burden. She smiled, knowing that she was close to the end. Just as soon as they talked to Jauffre and explained what happened, she could head back to Sinderion, give him the Nirnroot, and forget this mess.

The Bosmer laughed out loud and spun quickly about on the road, her arms wide open. Despite all that she'd seen, the woods never failed to cheer her. The trees swayed gently in the slight breeze, and patches of sunlight danced on their leaves. Líadain grinned as she saw a small fawn lying in the bushes, no doubt waiting for its mother. Noticing her improved mood, Ralen raised an eyebrow. "Feeling better, I take it?"

Líadain nodded and inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the trees. "Much. It's the forest, it always makes me feel better."

* * *

Ralen smiled warmly at her, a stark contrast to his earlier attitude. "Good. Sadness doesn't look right on you." Líadain beamed slightly, a light red tinge to her face.

Ginette looked at the other two, her mouth hanging open. Ralen had taken the words right out of her mouth. That wasn't _nice. _She scuffed the road with her foot, and caused a little dirt cloud to rise up. Looking up, she punched the air as she saw what had to be Weynon Priory coming up in front of them. A Dunmer standing by the wooden stables looked at her with a questioning expression. "May I help you?"

Ginette nodded, "Yes, we're looking for Brother Jauffre."

The Dunmer pointed at the stone church building. "He usually can be found in the chapel." Thanking him, the group walked on the cobblestones to the chapel. Ginette hesitated at the door; it was hard to believe that their little adventure was almost over. Raising her hand, she pushed the door open.

They approached the desk where the old monk was sitting. Noticing their arrival, he looked up from his book. "May I help you?" Not bothering to explain, Líadain took out the Amulet of Kings. Jauffre's shocked gaze was held by the Amulet of King's blood red jewel. Surprisingly fast for an aging man, his hand flew down to his boot as he backed up. Dagger drawn, he looked at them, his pale blue eyes hard.

"How did you get that?"

Ralen stepped in front of Ginette and Líadain. "I know how this looks. The Emperor dies, and then three people show up with the Amulet of Kings. Let me explain." Jauffre slowly lowered his dagger, though he still appeared wary. "We just happened to be in the cell that the Emperor used for an escape route. We followed them, and they were attacked by assassins dressed in red robes. We nearly made it out, but they ambushed us." Ralen gestured at the Bosmer. "Líadain was the only one with him. Just before he died, he handed her the Amulet and told her bring it to you and shut the jaws of Oblivion. He said that he had another son, and you would know about it."

Jauffre sighed roughly. "He is correct. I was there when the child was born. The Emperor said nothing about it being his son, but I knew. I was told to take him to Kvatch, and allow the church to raise him."

Ginette spoke up, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Do you know if he is still there, or what his name is?"

Jauffre nodded. "His name is Martin. We check on him monthly...we were actually going to send someone next week." He walked around the side of his desk, his hands clasped behind him. "After what you've said and all that's happened, it's likely that the enemy knows of him." Jauffre creased his brow in thought,"I cannot risk sending one of my men. If the enemy doesn't know of Martin, we will just be leading them right to his doorstep."

Ralen crossed his arms and leaned against one of the bookshelves by Jauffre's desk. "What do you suggest?"

Jauffre held out his hand. "Give me the Amulet. I'll keep it safe, while you three go and retrieve Martin."

Líadain's eyes widened. "N-no! I was just told to give you the Amulet, not to get wrapped up in this mess."

Jauffre carefully took the Amulet from her limp grasp. "I am sorry. The Emperor saw something in you. If you were not needed, he would not have given you the Amulet."

Ginette put a hand on Líadain's shoulder. "He's right. For whatever reason, the Emperor tasked us with this. We can't just give up now."

Ralen nodded in agreement. "I would rather not become involved, but Ginette is right. We were chosen for a reason."

Líadain sighed, defeated. "We should probably start for Kvatch as soon as possible then."

As they turned to leave, Líadain stopped suddenly, her hand resting on the desk. "Why is this Amulet so important?

Jauffre looked down at the Amulet he held in his hand. "It is needed to crown a new Emperor and keep the Dragonfires burning. Without them, there is nothing stopping Oblivion from overrunning Cyrodiil."

Ginette whistled lowly. "Pretty important then. It's no wonder the assassins want it."

Jauffre nodded. "I will keep it safe. It is your job to save Martin. Tell Brother Piner that I have given you leave to borrow two of our horses. I fear that you won't reach him fast enough on foot."

* * *

Líadain looked at the long road ahead of them and sighed as she stroked the paint horse's mane. Ginette had been reluctant to ride on the horse, but had calmed down at the realization that she would be riding with Líadain.

Apparently she thought that the animal would attack her without a Bosmer there to talk to it. Líadain smiled slightly to herself. She'd never thought of Ginette as being scared of anything, especially not a horse. She glanced over at Ralen, who was sitting comfortably astride a rather large bay stallion.

The Dunmer smiled at her, and they started for Kvatch.

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**A/N** I'm going to try and make it so that I get a new chapter out at least once every week. I might update again this Saturday, if can. As always, thanks for reading and please, please review. Also, the poll is still up on my profile page if you want to check it out.


	7. Choices and Martyrs

* * *

Ralen looked up, disturbed. With every step they took closer to Kvatch, the air seemed to become heavier. The Dunmer could almost swear that it was darkening, and he squinted as he saw what looked like harsh red veins running through the faintly crimson sky.

He shivered and looked at Líadain and Ginette. They had huddled closer together on their horse, as if trying to escape the chilling atmosphere. Ralen breathed in an acrid scent, and creased his brow with worry as he saw the dim glow of flames rising from where Kvatch was. Cursing, he kicked his horse into a gallop and headed for the city. He skidded to a stop as he reached the camp and a panicked Altmer ran out in front of him and shrieked, "What are you doing?! Flee!"

Ralen opened his mouth to suggest that the Altmer should get out of his way, but Ginette spoke quickly before he could.

* * *

"What happened here?" Ginette had seen that look on Ralen's face before, and knew that she had to speak before he snapped at the Altmer. The Dunmer was good at some things, but diplomacy wasn't one of them.

"The daedra-they came out of nowhere, in the middle of the night. So-so many people...everything's burning! I have to get out of here before they come again!" The Altmer was practically in hysterics, with a pale face and a terrified expression.

Before Ginette could ask him anything more, the Altmer ran off. Ginette scowled and spoke grimly to Líadain, "We have to find Martin as soon as possible."

She loosened her grip around Líadain's waist, and dismounted the horse. Resting her hand against the horse's sweaty side, she addressed both the Bosmer and the Dunmer. "You two head up to the city; I'll ask around about Martin and then meet you up there." They nodded and quickly started off, as Ginette turned to look around the camp for anyone that might know something.

* * *

Líadain sucked in a deep breath as she saw the gigantic flaming gate, and the numerous bloodstains around it. Ralen and she dismounted their horses, and approached the guards that were holding their own behind a rapidly constructed barricade. The corpses of scamps and clannfear were obviously fresh, but the guards seemed to have slowed the flood of enemies. For now, at least. They were resting and treating their wounded, but still remained completely alert.

As they headed for the barricade, a weary looking guard stepped in front of them. He was beginning to bald, and the events of the last night had prematurely carved lines into his face.

"Civilians! It isn't safe for you to be up here; head back to the encampment. If you have lost family, I understand. But there is nothing more for you here, unless you seek death."

His speech seemed to almost be rehearsed. No doubt he'd had to deal with hysterical people many times since the attack. Ralen shook his head, "We aren't civilians. We're looking for Brother Martin. Do you know where he is?"

The guard winced as they mentioned Martin, and sighed. "Yes...I know where he is. He is in the church, along with several other people. He attempted to lead them out, but they only made it to the church. They are safe for now, but they won't last much longer without help."

Líadain stepped forward and whispered urgently to Ralen, "We have to help. Not just Martin, but all of these people. If we don't do anything, the encampment will be overrun and they'll all die." Ralen nodded his head, and turned to the guard.

"How can we help?"

* * *

Ginette sighed in irritation as she walked quickly to the barricade. No one had known anything about Martin; most of them were to busy trying to save their own skins to notice anyone else. She snorted as she realized that it was utterly hypocritical of her to take offense at that. Maybe five years ago she could have been angry at them, but not now.

After all, what she'd done was purely to save herself, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that she was doing the world a favor by getting rid of him. The only thing Ginette could do to make what happened seem less horrific was to pretend that it was in self defense, and not for revenge. She smiled slightly to herself; he had brought it upon himself with what he had done. Even if the rest of the world saw it as a murder, they didn't know the half of what had happened.

Ginette contented herself with this thought as she strode over to Líadain and Ralen, just in time to hear the guard explaining how the two of them could help.

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Savlian Matius watched in shock as a rather comely red haired Breton walked confidently up to the Bosmer and Dunmer in front of him, and calmly offered to help. It was his natural reaction to tell them that they couldn't; after all, he didn't want to lose anymore people. But he had to admit that without help, everything that his men had died to protect would be lost.

As much as he didn't want these people to martyr themselves, he wouldn't let his mens' deaths mean nothing. Silently saying a prayer to Akatosh that the three in front of him would make it through, he spoke.

"As long as that gate stands, we can't get into the city and we'll just be worn down eventually. I have sent men into the gate in an attempt to close it, but they haven't come back. But I'm certain it can be closed; the enemy closed the one they opened in the initial attack. I would go with you, but I'm needed here. The best I can do is to wish you good luck. If you make it back alive, we'll still be here. If you don't see me immediately, ask one of my men for Savlian Matius."

As they turned to the forbidding gate, Savlian put a hand on the Dunmer's shoulder. "Good luck in there."

The Dunmer looked back at him and nodded with a small smile of thanks. Before he could say anymore, the three walked through the gate.

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**A/N**

**Photophobia:** I was checking it over, and you're right. Thanks for the notice, I'll make sure to be more careful.

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! The poll is still up on my profile if you want to vote. I might have another chapter tomorrow since this one seems kind of short to me. I enjoyed it though. Probably not as much as I'll enjoy writing the next one. :) Anyway, please review!


	8. Into Oblivion

* * *

The harsh air filled her lungs as Líadain took a deep breath. She coughed roughly, her eyes beginning to water as she opened them. Almost immediately, she wished that she hadn't opened them.

Kvatch was nothing compared to Oblivion. A huge spiked tower loomed menacingly over the blackened, scorched land as the red sky rumbled with thunder. Rotting heads were stuck on pikes, their mouths open in an eternal scream.

Shuddering, Líadain coughed again, her lungs used to breathing the clean air of Cyrodiil. Ginette was having trouble also, but seemed to be adapting to the atmosphere quickly. Ralen looked slightly amused at their hacking, as his heritage was protecting him from the smoky air.

"Are you alright?" He asked, with a shade of concern in his gravelly voice. Ginette glared at him as she choked out, "Just peachy, thanks for asking." She straightened up, taking short breaths through her mouth. Líadain contemplated casting a minor spell to purify the air around them, but quickly dismissed the idea.

She would have to recast it as soon as it wore off, and that would drain her magicka. The air wouldn't kill her, but not being able to conjure a shield up around her could. Líadain blinked her irritated eyes, and turned to Ralen as Ginette asked the Dunmer, "Do you have any idea how to close the gate?"

Ralen shook his head grimly. Líadain looked at them and said hesitantly, "I-I think I might know." The two stared at her, with expectant expressions on their faces. Líadain continued, "When I was with Sinderion in Skingrad, I sometimes studied with the Mage's Guild. Oblivion fascinated me, and I read everything I could about it. I think that the gate is kept up by some sort of sigil stone that has to be removed to close the gate."

Ralen gazed at her with slight disbelief in his eyes. "Do you know where the sigil stone is held?" Líadain shrugged her shoulders. Ginette bit her lips, thinking. "They don't want the gate to go down, so it's probably held somewhere safe." As one, the three turned to look at the nightmarish tower.

* * *

"The bridge is barricaded. We'll have to find another way into the tower." Ralen sighed, looking ahead to the bridge as he spoke. Why could nothing be easy? First he had just gone to get a drink and ended up being thrown in jail. He'd gotten wrapped up in some mad adventure when he tried to serve his time, and now he was in Oblivion when all he'd wanted to do was find the Emperor's heir.

At least they hadn't met any enemies yet. He cursed mentally. Now they were sure to meet some horrible beast. As if confirming his thought, something smashed into his back and Ralen slammed into the ground. Ginette and Líadain turned quickly to help him, but Ralen was already on his feet with his sword drawn.

The Dunmer blinked at the complete lack of enemy. He backed up slowly and turned around to face Líadain and Ginette. As soon as he turned his back, he heard the downward swish of something that was no doubt trying to hit him. He lunged out of the way as he heard Líadain call out, "Oh! It's harrada root!"

Ralen picked himself up from the ground and slashed at the plant's tendrils, just in time to avoid them snaking around his ankles. The plant drew back what remained of its roots in a way that reminded him strongly of a pouting child. A malicious, evil, pouting child with many limbs.

He began to sheath his sword when he heard Líadain ask tentatively, "Do you think you could get the harrada samples for me, Ralen?" Not even bothering to look up, he said firmly, "No." He sheathed his sword and turned away from the evil plant to glance at the two women.

Ralen regretted it immediately. Líadain's face was pleading, her brown eyes wide and doe like. He shook his head again for emphasis that there was no way he would get them for her, and then turned around and gathered up the samples. He glared at Ginette's smirking face and handed the samples to Líadain. The Bosmer smiled shyly up at him and carefully placed the samples in her pouch. Clearing his throat, Ralen pointed at the path to his left. "I think that path will take us to the tower. We should hurry."

-----------------------------------

They walked carefully down the rocky path, mindful of the lava pools and plants. Ginette had nearly had an unfortunate encounter with a spiddal stick plant, but Líadain had warned her away. To Ginette, it seemed like _**everything **_was dangerous in Oblivion. Without the Bosmer to make sure she didn't touch anything, she didn't doubt that she would be dead in minutes. Could she really help it if she was curious?

Ginette huffed in irritation and stopped as Ralen held an arm out to stop them from leaving the shelter of the large boulder. "Hold on. I'm going to see if there are any enemies we might we walking right into."

Ginette nodded her head and whispered quietly, "Alright. Better you getting a fireball to the face than me." Ralen opened his mouth to contradict her, but Ginette interrupted him. "After all, I'm the pretty one." She fluttered her lashes, snickering. Ralen merely rolled his eyes and leaned stealthily out from behind the boulder.

The Dunmer immediately turned back, his face grim. "There's a guard laying down out there. He looks hurt."

Líadain's face paled and she whispered urgently, "We have to help him!" She started to step out from the boulder, but Ralen quickly grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"It could be a trap, we've got to be careful."

Líadain crossed her arms and stubbornly set her jaw. "That man is dying! If we don't help, we might as well be murderers." Ginette winced and quickly stepped between the two as Ralen got a dangerous glint in his eyes. She didn't doubt that Ralen would physically hold Líadain back if he had to.

"Stop! We aren't helping him any by fighting between ourselves. Lía, do you think you can put a shield over us?"

The Bosmer lowered her hands and bit her lip in thought. "I-I'm not sure I can hold it long enough for you to get him to safety."

Ralen sidestepped Ginette and said brusquely, "You're going to have to, if you want to save him." Líadain's eyes flashed with a rare anger at his tone, but she held her tongue. Concentrating hard, a violet shield sprang up around the Ginette and Ralen.

Líadain took a deep breath and gasped out, "I can't hold it for long. Hurry!" With a glance at the blood that slowly began to trickle from Líadain's nose, they ran forward.

Ginette grimaced at the guard's wounds and swiftly put her hands under his shoulders while Ralen grasped his legs. Ginette cautiously walked backwards, trying to maintain a balance between quick and safe. Her foot slipped on a rock, and she nearly fell to the ground. Ginette's yelp of surprise was drowned out as a fireball enveloped them in a warm embrace. Never in her short life had she been so glad for a shield. She began to take another careful step backwards but halted in mid-stride as Ralen bellowed a warning. Looking backwards over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she saw a Dremora standing over Líadain's lifeless body. With a weak crackle, the violet shield faded away, leaving them defenseless as fireballs rained down on them.

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A/N Gee! Does this look familiar? Probably. :) I decided that I couldn't leave this so short after so long. I'll try for another chap today, since I'm kind of not doing much else. I have good music too! Yay. Thanks to everyone who's reading this, and especially the ones who review! You keep me inspired. Hmm...anything else? Let me think...oh yeah! The poll is still up, so please vote. Also, reviews are greatly loved!


	9. Pummeling Scamps and Picking Flowers

A note up here for once! Anyway, I posted another part of chapter eight. I don't know how many people got the word about that, so I'm telling you now. This won't make much sense without reading it.

Well since I'm up here, I might as well post a disclaimer.

Mr. Disclaimer says: DoomRabbit no own Oblivion. She be limmited to riting dis "storie". Ha, I says! Ha!

Shut up. You can't even spell correctly. Anyway, READ ON!!!

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Líadain's eyes fluttered open slowly. Her head was in agony, and she barely managed to stifle a whimper of pain. Her body was being roughly dragged along cold stone by something that obviously thought her little more than a sack of meat.

Quietly and carefully, she looked up. A Dremora's armored back met her gaze, and Líadain closed her eyes slowly. She didn't have much hope for making it out alive. Ginette and Ralen were almost certainly dead, burned alive by a rain of fire. Líadain didn't know if she lucky to be alive or not, what with her current situation.

Being careful to show no signs of consciousness, she studied her surroundings. Blood-streaked walls surrounded her, their Daedric runes glowing menacingly. Líadain smiled grimly; it seemed that she was in the tower, at least.

As the Dremora dragged her closer to the flaming lift in the room's center, another Dremora stepped out of the shadows, with two scamps trailing behind him. Líadain shut her eyes quickly and went as limp as she could. The Dremora was much taller than her, and heavily armored, with a flail strapped securely to his hip. If he noticed that she wasn't unconscious, she had no doubt that she would be dead within a second.

The Dremora dragging her stopped before the lift, and dropped her manacled arms. They fell limply against the floor, the metal clanging. Líadain kept her face slack, despite the unexpected jolt of pain that shot up her arms. The other Dremora approached the tiny Bosmer and bent down to inspect her. Terrified at his closeness, Líadain fought desperately to keep tension from her body as the Dremora lifted her head, and gently prodded the wound. It brought to mind the terrible image of a wolf checking a rabbit for any sign of life. She shuddered mentally, and pushed the thought away.

The Dremora rose suddenly with a small chuckle, and spoke. "It is not her. I do not understand why we must check every one of these pitiful beings...put her in the cage with the other two." He strode away, leaving the other Dremora to deal with her. The Dremora growled lowly in his throat, and pushed an inquisitive scamp away from her as he yanked her onto the burning lift. Líadain opened her eyes as they sailed upward, and steeled her would be her only chance to defeat him; she could catch him offguard and no one would be there to help him. She had no weapon, but was fairly certain that if she lunged, she could push him over the edge of the lift.

Líadain stealthily drew herself up so that she was kneeling, keeping her hands together to stop the metal chains from clanking together. Drawing in a light breath, she lunged. Her slight frame slammed into the Dremora with a less than satisfactory effect. Instead of falling over the edge to his death, he merely stumbled and turned around with a mighty roar. Líadain dove as far as she could to her left, just in time to dodge a downward slash from his blade.

Gasping in fear from the close call, Líadain summoned the violet shield. The Dremora hacked at the shield, his every blow stabbing into her mind. Her adrenaline flowing, Líadain screamed and hurled herself at him. Take aback by the sudden strength, the Dremora slipped backward. He roared and began to pick himself up, when Líadain leapt at him again. He fell backward off the lift, but not before he slashed at her one last time with the sword.

Panting, Líadain sat down heavily as the lift arrived at floor empty of all but a stairway. She dimly noted that blood was dripping steadily from a long gash on her arm, but she couldn't feel any pain. After staring dazedly at the wound for at least a minute, she cast a healing spell that would stop the bleeding for a bit. It would need more attention than that, but she couldn't afford to pay attention to it right now.

Líadain heaved herself to her feet, and stepped forward. She desperately wished that she had at least a dagger to fight with, since using herself as a battering ram wasn't working so well. Líadain staggered forward a few steps, and then stopped in her tracks. The stairway looked like it was made of bloody _skin._ She hesitantly placed a foot on it, and winced at the squelching noise. Keeping to the shadows as much as she could, Líadain sidled forward.

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Líadain stepped onto the black stone landing and wiped her blood-coated boots in disgust. Sliding into the shadows, Líadain shakely considered her next move. She couldn't see all of the landing because of the walls that jutted forward, but she could dimly make out what seemed to be a door straight across from her.

The jutting walls would hide enemies, but it would also hide her. A trade-off. It was better than the stairway, in any case. She had been lucky to get out alive. Only a scamp had noticed her, and she had managed to pin it and beat it to death before it could attract any attention. Her knuckles were bruised and bloody from the encounter, and she had several cuts from the scamp's claws. Líadain considered herself blessed not to have been set on fire.

Ginette would probably be laughing from the whole event if it had happened to her, Líadain thought dully. Maybe even cheering. Ralen would have been his usual unshaken self, dispatching the scamp quickly and easily. Líadain brushed the welling tears from her eyes, and tried to shake away the thoughts.

She had secretly wished for adventure at times, but now just wanted to be picking flowers like she was supposed to be doing. The Bosmer wiped her eyes quickly, reminding herself that she could be as emotional as she wanted to later. She had an Oblivion gate to close right now.

Líadain took a small step to her left, and leaned carefully around the jutting wall to check for enemies. Her gaze was immediately drawn to a huge, fleshy pod held up by stone claws that rested only a few feet away from her. Pressing her lips together, she carefully looked around for enemies.

Seeing none, she rushed forward to the pod. As revolting as it was, it could hold a weapon or something useful. Or possibly a horrible, hellish creature that could kill her. Líadain snatched her hand away from the pod as if she had been burned at the thought. She studied the pod with trepidation, before slowly curling the edges away. Líadain closed her eyes and hesitantly slid her hand into the darkness.

She heaved a sigh of relief when nothing immediately bit into her hand, then grimaced as her hand brushed against something slimy and moist. Gritting her teeth, she groped deeper inside the pod. Her hand finally hit something metal, and she scrabbled to get a good grip on the object. Líadain opened her eyes and said a quick thank-you to whichever Divine had decided to take pity on her as she drew out a rusty dagger.

Her arm was covered in unidentifiable black muck, but she had a way of defending herself. Other than pummeling creatures to death, that was. She would leave that to Ginette, once she managed to find the other two and get out of Oblivion. If they were still alive.

Líadain banished the dark thought quickly. The Dremora had said the other two; she couldn't think of anyone else they could be. Holding the dagger tightly, Líadain moved away from the scorched walls and opened the door.

She dropped into a huddled crouch at the sight that awaited her. Two stone pews were in the center of the room, facing a Daedric altar of some kind. A scamp had been impaled by a trap on the right side of the room, and was steadily dripping blood. The thing that terrified her the most wasn't either of those.

A huge Daedroth was hunched over a cage on the room's left side, and Líadain could distinctly see the shine of Ginette's red hair in the sparse light.

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Despite my limited time, I have updated! Cheers for me. If anything in this chapter seems awkward, please don't hesitate to tell me. A big thankies and hug to all of my lovely reviewers and readers! I couldn't do this without you. I don't know when the next chapter will be up because of technical difficulties, but I hope it's soon. :)

A new poll is up for the new title. If none of the choices are doing it for you, leave a suggestion.

** Please, please review. Reviews are my lifeblood.**


	10. Herpetophobia and Keys

Líadain kept as silent as she could. She'd always been terrified of reptiles, and now the biggest one she'd ever seen was guarding the cage of Ginette and Ralen. Trying hard to control her tremors, she crept forward as quietly as she could. There was no way that her rusty dagger would stop this creature, even if she managed to stab it in the neck unexpectedly. Líadain crouched behind a pew, and shakily tried to formulate a plan.

The dagger wouldn't work, and she wasn't skilled in Destruction. There was no way to get Ginette and Ralen free without the Daedroth noticing. She glanced at the dead scamp that was dangling from a spear on the wall. It hit her immediately. If she could lure the beast over to the traps, she might be able to impale it.

Líadain gripped her dagger tightly, and slowly raised herself from her hunched position behind the pew. The Bosmer considered how to get its attention. She wasn't going to go up and tap it, and yelling could bring others running. If that happened, she wouldn't have a chance of getting out of this ordeal alive. Líadain lingered in the shadows, trying to fight the almost overpowering fear.

Before she could even think about what she was doing, she hurled her dagger at the beast's back. The dagger clanged harmlessly off the Daedroth's scaled back and fell to the floor. The monster turned slowly, and fixed her with an almost amused eye. Taking its time, the huge beast lumbered forward. Líadain stood quivering, fear rooting her to the spot. The Daedroth took deliberate strides forward, and she at last came alive.

Líadain gasped out loud in terror, and stumbled backwards away from the beast. The Daedroth growled lowly in its throat, making a noise that seemed somewhere between a rough snort and a gravelly chuckle. Líadain took another step backward, aiming for the trap. The beast raised its head with strange hiss, and suddenly lunged at Líadain. Her plan completely forgotten, she screamed and dived out of the way of the Daedroth's snapping jaws.

She landed painfully on her side, and scooted as quickly as she could away from the Daedroth. The beast advanced menacingly, and Líadain's back made contact with the cold stone of a corner. Terrified, Líadain looked up at the gigantic creature. It leaned in, its long claws gleaming in the dim lighting. Her brown eyes wide with fear, Líadain did the only thing she could.

Dropping to the floor to avoid the slashing claws, she crawled between the Daedroth's legs. The beast turned slowly, confusion showing in its yellow eyes. It obviously hadn't had many victims try to escape that way. Líadain was still crawling away on her belly, and the Daedroth recovered much faster than her. With a horrible roar of rage the beast leapt forward, fully intending to spend many happy moments gutting its prey. Líadain dropped flat to the floor with a small shriek, completely unready for death.

As she waited for the feel of long claws burying themselves in her back, she felt rather cheated. Líadain had heard that your life would flash before your eyes, but the only thing she was seeing was her imminent death. The roar of rage turned suddenly to a howl of pain, and a hot, red rain poured on Líadain's back. She lay there for a few minutes, her eyes shut tightly in fear. When nothing more happened, she slowly cracked open her eyes. A puddle of blood was slowly spreading around her, and something heavy was resting on her legs.

Líadain didn't attempt to raise herself up, and instead belly crawled away. Her already ragged clothes were soaked in reptilian blood, she dimly noted as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. The Daedroth was completely impaled on the spears, a fate that Líadain had narrowly avoided. She shuddered to think what would have happened if she hadn't been lying on the floor. Líadain giggled hysterically. Sometimes being a coward does pay off, she thought. Líadain stood up, and nearly fell over. Composing herself as much as she could, she walked over to the cage.

Ginette and Ralen were laying unconscious on the floor, both looking worse for the wear. Numerous cuts and burns covered all that she could see of them. Líadain dug around in her pouch, faintly surprised that she still had the bag. A thorough search turned up a few small healing potions, along with the Nirnroot. Líadain blinked at the glowing plant, then slowly placed everything back in the pouch. She shook the bars of the cage in a futile attempt break them, then realized that the key had to be around somewhere.

Biting her lips nervously, she walked to Daedroth's bleeding body, scooping up her rusty dagger as she did so. Being sure to stay a safe distance away from the traps, she examined the body. Even though it was dead, the Daedroth still terrified her. A faint gleam caught her eye, and she reluctantly leaned in to inspect further. Líadain's mouth dropped open in realization; the key was being used as a nose piercing for the beast.

Gritting her teeth, she raised her dagger. Several seconds of sawing later, Líadain was gingerly holding the key. She walked back to the cage, hoping desperately that the key wasn't just some kind of strange ornament. Líadain slid the key into the lock, and turned. The cage door swung open with a small creak. Saying a silent thank you to the Divines, she dropped to her knees before Ralen and Ginette.

The Bosmer fished out the few healing potions she had, and gently raised Ralen's head. Rubbing his throat to make sure he swallowed, she poured small portions into his mouth until the bottle was empty. Carefully lowering his head, she repeated the actions with Ginette. She alternated between the two until all but one bottle was emptied.

Líadain drank the whole bottle, wincing at the nasty taste. Deer meat and aloe vera leaves did not make a good combination. Almost immediately a tingling warmth ran through her, increasing to a painful stinging sensation on her wounds. Líadain stuffed the bottles back into the pouch, and began whispering healing spells. Several minutes later, Ginette and Ralen were looking markedly better. Líadain took a relieved breath as she saw them begin to show the signs of waking.

She had done the best she could, but was certain that they would need more attention. All of them would, Líadain noted as a sudden jolt of pain ran through her skull. She'd had a healing potion, but she had also suffered a mace to the head. Líadain was fairly certain that adrenaline was the only reason she hadn't passed out long ago.

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Ginette woke slowly, her skin burning as if it was being repeatedly stabbed by several tiny knives. The bars of a cage and black stone faded in and out, before finally deciding that they were really there. She remained on the floor, feeling content to do nothing. Until a Bosmer's face loomed into view, a concerned look in her eyes. Ginette blinked up at it for a few seconds before suddenly remembering the Bosmer's name. "Huh. You normally aren't in my dreams...usually there are just lots of naked-" Líadain cut her off abruptly with a scarily tight hug. "Ginette! You're awake! Not dead!" A gravelly voice spoke up, sounding even rougher than normal.

"Where are we?"

Líadain whipped quickly around, her blood matted ponytail striking Ginette painfully in the face. The Bosmer excitedly lunged at Ralen, wrapping him in joyful hug. Ginette was still fuzzy, but managed to give an amused smirk at Ralen's steadily darkening face. Either he was blushing, or Líadain was choking him. Ginette wasn't certain which it was more likely to be. Ralen glared at her, making the second option a significantly better choice.

"Líadain-gently please."

Líadain blushed a deep red, and released him. Ginette suddenly realized that Líadain was covered in blood. "Lía, are you alright?" she asked urgently.

The Bosmer looked at her uncomprehendingly. Ralen gently took Líadain's bloody arm and carefully examined it. "Is this blood yours?"

Líadain shook her head, and pointed to the other side of the room where a Daedroth's body was suspended by several spears. Ginette's mouth dropped open. "Did you do that?" Líadain clutched a key tightly in her hand and replied, "I woke in the tower and made my way up here. It was just dumb luck that it got stabbed and not me."

Ralen gazed at her, still holding her arm. "We're in the tower?"

Ginette hurriedly clambered to her feet. "We have to hurry then. Someone had to have noticed the commotion, and we don't want to be caught." Líadain and Ralen stood up, the latter carefully supporting the other. Ginette stared at Ralen for a second before he spit out defensively, "She got hit on the head by a _mace_, Ginette." The Breton nodded, being careful not to show any sign of amusement on her face. Líadain had been hit, but normally she would have been the one to help her. Bowing elaborately, Ginette held the cage door open for them.

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Ralen creased his brow in irritation as he passed Ginette. It was true that being hugged by Líadain had given him an annoyingly warm feeling, but that was only because most people didn't go around surprise hugging him. The fear that she might be hurt was natural for him. He had spent several years in the Fighters' Guild, and needed to be concerned with his team's welfare.

Ralen sighed mentally, and carefully released Líadain as they neared the Daedric altar. He didn't like leaving her to her own devices, but she had done remarkably well for someone in her condition and he needed his hands free to wield the rusty dagger that she had given him. Three of them, and only one weapon. Not something he liked.

Ralen studied the two doors in front of them and looked at Líadain. "Which door, do you think?" The Bosmer pondered the question for a second before pointing at the right door. Ralen approached the door hesitantly, and took an immediate step back as it opened to black pit.

Ginette spoke up quickly, "Other door."

Dagger held at the ready, they stepped through the door. Líadain blinked. "It looks a lot like the other place I went through." Ralen steeled himself. He had been through worse than meat staircases and hanging bodies. The Dunmer walked slightly ahead of the group, intending to attract any danger to himself. The others didn't have weapons, and wouldn't have much chance to defend themselves.

Ralen still wondered how Líadain had gotten through in one piece. He walked up the meat, careful to stay away from the rotting bodies. The whole place was stinking worse than a Necromancer's cave. Ralen stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. A scamp was watching them curiously from the landing above, an evil glint in its eyes. The Dunmer stood still, hoping that the scamp would believe them boring and leave. The scamp would be easy to take down, but Ralen was fairly certain that something had summoned the ugly little creature.

His plan didn't work. With a keening cry, the scamp launched a small fireball down at them. Ralen rushed forward, beckoning the others onward. They ran quickly up the slick, bloody skin. His suspicions that something had summoned the scamp were confirmed when a much larger fireball hurtled down at them. A violet shield sprang up around them, just in time to absorb the blow. Ralen reached the landing and set his sights on the Dremora that had called up the scamp. He heard a wail and Ginette's bloodthirsty laughter as she hurled the scamp over the edge. The Breton worried him at times.

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Ginette approached the bone cage in the landing's center while Líadain focused on keeping up Ralen's shield. A half-naked man stood in the cage, desperately beckoning to her. As she came closer, he called out, "You have to get the sigil keep key! The Dremora has it!"

Ginette glanced back in time to see Ralen running the Dremora through, and Líadain jogging towards her.

"I'll get you out! Wait a second."

She turned to find a way to free him, but he shouted urgently, "NO! There's no time! You have to get to the Keep and take the sigil stone!"

Ginette looked at him incredulously. "We can free you!" The man shook his head in frustration, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"No. There isn't time! They're coming for you. If you don't leave now, you will die."

Líadain stared at him, then quietly spoke. "He's right. Someone will have heard us. We have to leave now, while there's still time."

Ginette closed her eyes, cursing herself for what she was about to do. "Ralen! Get the key; we have to head up." The Dunmer had already grabbed the key, and they bolted up the next stairs.

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Ralen opened the door, and immediately wished he hadn't. A narrow bridge stretched across a deep chasm to the Sigil Keep, and the wind buffeted him. He looked back at the others, and gestured for them to get down. Ginette and Líadain appeared about as sick as he felt, he noted with the bare bones of amusement. Making certain that the key was safely stowed away in a pocket, he began to crawl across.

After several terrifying minutes where he nearly got blown over, he reached the door. Getting as good a grip as he could on the bridge, he stretched up and stuck the key in the door. The door slid open, and he gratefully fell inside. He wanted to spend a long while lying on the floor, but rose to his feet instead. He looked around in amazement. A huge flame stretched out of pit in the center of the floor, and threatened to engulf anything that went near it. A small, spiraling flight of stairs (stone, thankfully) rose out of the floor and lead to the top.

They were near the end of this nightmare, he realized exhaustedly. His aching legs protested every movement, but he ran up the stairs, Líadain and Ginette following close behind. After what felt like years, they reached the landing. Líadain called out a warning, and Ralen followed her pointing finger.

For the first time in his life, Ralen realized that he stood no chance if he fought. A tall, muscular Dremora guarded the sigil stone, with a huge claymore strapped on his back. He wore full Daedric armor, something that was already impressive. Ralen sighed, and drew his puny dagger. The Dremora regarded them with a pitying gaze for a moment before drawing his claymore and charging Ralen. Líadain immediately called up a shield, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. Bracing himself for the impact, he awaited the Dremora's blow.

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Ginette knew that Ralen was going to die if he fought the Dremora. She made her decision in a split second. As the Dremora slammed into the violet shield, destroying it and sending Ralen flying, Ginette sprinted for the sigil stone. Líadain was desperately trying to conjure up another shield, but Ginette knew she wouldn't make it in time. Barely even thinking about the consequences, she grabbed the sigil stone.

A great roaring filled her ears, and the flames reached up to consume her.

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Merry Christmas! This is my longest chapter yet, I think. In an attempt at a gift for my readers and reviewers, I stayed up all night long (24 hours straight) to type this. So please, review. It'll be like a gift to me. I give you the present of a long chapter, and I get a review! Pretty please?

**Please review.** **:)** **Please?**


	11. Daedra and Priests

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Rain...it was raining, Líadain realized dimly. Her ears were still ringing from the roar of the Oblivion gate closing, dulling any thoughts she had. The Bosmer fell wearily to her knees, ignoring the mud that splattered upward. She heard the distant shouts of several people, and wondered what they were so excited about.

A hand slid under her arm, and lifted her up gently. Líadain blinked at Ginette's face slowly. Ginette put a finger to her lips. "Shh. Your head is bleeding, Lía. That last shield pushed you over the edge. Don't worry, we're going to get you healed." Líadain looked at her, confused at how softly she was speaking. "I-is Ralen...alr...?" She tried to speak, her tongue stumbling over the simple words. "He's fine. Don't try and speak." Líadain closed her eyes and leaned into Ginette, only too happy to comply. The Breton wrapped an arm around Líadain's waist, and guided her carefully to the waiting guards.

* * *

Despite herself, Ginette was worried. Líadain's wounds were serious, especially the head wound. "Take her to someone that can help. She's been wounded pretty badly." She spoke more sharply than she intended but didn't waste any time apologizing, instead handing Líadain to the surprised looking guard.

"What are you waiting for? She's hurt!" she snapped when the guard didn't move. Jumping like a rabbit, the guard hurriedly headed to the encampment. Ginette rubbed her temples as she stood in the pouring rain, and sighed deeply. She was lucky that nothing worse had happened. When she had grabbed the sigil stone, she hadn't had a clue what she was doing. For all she knew, it could have left Ralen and Líadain in Oblivion.

'_You knew you would be safe though, didn't you? You didn't care about the others...just yourself. As always.'_

Ginette flinched away from the thought as if stung. _I did what I had to! They would have died if I did nothing. _She hissed back mentally, but small waves of doubt washed over her.

_But you didn't think about that, did you? You only hoped that it would save you, damn whatever happened to Líadain and Ralen. _

Ginette pushed the accusing voice out of her mind with a small sigh. "One little trip to Oblivion, and I start talking to myself. I'll be joining Sheogorath soon, at this rate."

A questioning voice spoke up from behind her. "Talking to yourself? Perhaps you should be with Líadain." Ginette turned around to face Ralen, a slight frown on her face. She began to protest, but a hand on her shoulder silenced her. She spun around, startled. Savlian Matius was looking down at her, his weary face rejuvenated by joy.

"By the Gods, you did it! You brought down the gate! Do you know what this means?"

The Breton shrugged her shoulders and said sarcastically, "That I get to help out some more?"

Savlian gave her a hard stare and said uncertainly, "Well...since you offered, we do need your help."

Ginette was about to tell him that she didn't give a damn what he needed and she only wanted to get some sleep, but Ralen replied before she could. "You want us to help you with taking back Kvatch, correct?"

Savlian nodded vigorously. "With the gate down, we can get through. The city is filled with daedra though, and we will need all the help we can get." His face turned grim. "I do not expect many of us to live." Ginette gripped her steel shortsword that she had acquired from a guard. "We made it through Oblivion, we can make it through this. When do we attack?"

The Guard Captain looked them over carefully, and called his men over. "We attack now."

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With the guards' cries of "For Kvatch!" nearly deafening his sensitive ears, Ralen rushed forward. He didn't like charging in with no plan, but they would lose the advantage if they waited. The daedra wouldn't expect their gate to be closed, effectively cutting off a retreat plan and any hope of reinforcements. Ralen was certain that an attack from the guards was completely unexpected; the daedra likely believed they had already won.

With the slick mud barely slowing their stampede, the small group stormed into the city, fighting for all they worth. Adrenaline and desperation made a powerful combination, and the little band was gradually pushing the daedra back. Fireballs rained upon them and blades frequently bit into their flesh, but neither the guards nor Ralen and Ginette slowed. If anything, they fought harder.

Ralen slashed into the Dremora in front of him, its hot blood spraying. The chapel was growing nearer, and he could only hope they were not too late. If Martin was dead, they had already lost. Seeing an opening, he rushed to the chapel. Ginette called out a warning, and Ralen swung around to see a clannfear sprinting at him. The Dunmer walked backwards up the chapel steps, narrowly avoiding the clannfear's snapping jaws. Pushing the chapel door open with one hand, he kicked the clannfear in the snout and slipped through the door, slamming it shut as he fell through.

Dragging himself up from his knees, he heard a collective gasp. Before he had any time to think, a Redguard female had a blade to his throat. Ralen dropped his own sword and held up his hands, wondering why they were frightened. A quick glance at his hands showed him the answer. His normally ashen gray skin was coated with blood, and his red eyes gave him a small resemblance to a Dremora. Kvatch's people were already on edge; any newcomer would be regarded with an amount of wariness. A newcomer with blood-coated skin and red eyes would be particularly unwelcome.

Before the Redguard could act rashly, an Imperial in gray robes spoke quietly. "Tierra! I believe that is another survivor."

Tierra looked incredulously at Ralen, then stepped back in horror. "I'm sorry! I nearly killed you...I suppose we're all just on edge here."

She continued talking, but Ralen was already walking up to the priest. His blue eyes and softspoken way reminded Ralen eerily of the Emperor. The Imperial _had_ to be the priest looked up from the bedroll of a wounded Argonian with a questioning expression as Ralen stopped in front of him.

"Yes?"

"You are Brother Martin?"

Sensing something amiss, Martin stood up and replied, "That is correct. What do you need?"

Ralen sighed; he felt a bit sorry that he was going to drag the quiet priest into this mess. "You are the Emperor's last heir."

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I don't know when I'll update. A close friend is in the hospital from a stroke, and I would appreciate it very much if you kept her in your thoughts.


	12. Burning Castles and Bloody Blades

* * *

Martin looked at him with something resembling shock and amusement. It was a strange combination, really. The amusement slowly vanished as he realized Ralen had a grim expression on his face.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Ralen nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm quite serious. I don't joke when the fate of all Nirn hangs in balance." Martin took a step toward him, his blue eyes concerned.

"Have you been injured in the battle?"

Ralen shook his head in annoyance and spoke firmly, "I suffered no head wounds, I assure you." The Imperial stared at Ralen, clearly doubting his sanity.

"Listen. I was born to a local farmer, and raised in Kvatch. I became a priest to Akatosh, and have lived a completely normal life up until now. I am _not _the son of Uriel Septim."

Ralen sighed mentally; this was going to be hard. Fighting in the Arena, killing Dremora, shutting Oblivion gates...those he could do. Convincing people that the life they had always known was a lie; that was something he had trouble with. The Dunmer hadn't believed it a useful skill to have.

Fixing Martin with a stare that bordered on a glare, he repeated himself, carefully enunciating every word. _"You-__**are-**__the-son-of-the-Emperor__**.**_"

Martin opened his mouth to protest, when the chapel doors slammed open. They crashed against the stone walls, accompanied by the loud rumble of thunder. Ginette stood silhouetted in the doorway with her red hair slipping from its bun to cascade around her face. With the guards gathered around and her armor splashed with blood, Ralen couldn't help but compare her to some goddess of war. The Dunmer allowed himself a small grin; Ginette did know how to make an entrance. The redhead spoke commandingly, her gaze fixed on Martin.

"It is true. You are the Emperor's son, Martin."

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Ginette was grinning like a maniac in her mind. It wasn't often that she got to make such a dramatic entrance. Once the square had been cleared of enemies, she had raced to the chapel doors, pushing everyone out of her way. She had carefully loosened her hair a bit, and timed the slamming of the doors to coincide with the rumble of thunder. It was_ perfect_.

She walked carefully up to the staring priest and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I understand that this may be hard to accept, but many lives rest on your ability to trust us."

Martin sighed and shook his head. After considering for a moment, he spoke slowly, "I don't know why, but I believe your strange tale. I am probably a fool for doing so, but I will follow you."

Ginette couldn't help it; she grinned insanely. Ignoring Martin's suddenly wary look, she clapped her hands together. "Good! We will come back to the encampment for you, since Ralen agreed to aid the guards in taking back Kvatch." Shooting Ralen a dirty look, she turned on her heel to look for Savlian Matius. Leaving Ralen to explain her odd behavior to the confused priest, she walked up to the Guard Captain.

He was arguing with a Redguard, and Ginette briefly wondered if she should come back later. Deciding that she didn't really care about being polite right now, she tapped him on the back. Holding a hand up to the female guard, he turned to Ginette. His face was pale underneath the blood streaks, but it held a dark mirth that undoubtedly came from killing daedra. After what happened to Kvatch, Ginette was feeling the same sadistic joy.

"Captain Matius, are we done here?"

Savlian shook his head brusquely. "Not even close. Taking back the chapel was only the first step. Tierra- He waved a hand at the Redguard and continued, -will lead the survivors to the encampment. We will need your help to get inside the castle. Without it, we will never recover Kvatch."

Sighing to herself, Ginette nodded. She was tempted to say that they were just going to take Martin and leave, but Ralen would never agree to it.

"I understand. Let me go get Ralen."

She turned around, and stepped back with a startled gasp as she nearly ran into the Dunmer.

"We're ready, Captain. How do we get to the castle?" Ralen asked, his voice calm.

The Guard Captain gestured to the door at the far side of the chapel.

"That door will take us to the plaza. Once there, it is just a short way to the castle. Unfortunately, there will be many daedra. It will be a hard battle, but it must be fought."

Savlian Matius turned back to face Tierra, and ordered her to lead the survivors back to the camp. As the Redguard herded the people out of the chapel, Matius gathered the guards into a band, and they carefully walked out into the plaza.

For a moment, everything was still as the daedra stared at the unexpected arrival of the guards. Seizing the opportunity, Ginette stabbed the nearest scamp. As the blade slid smoothly into the scamp's chest, the tension erupted into a full-scale battle.

* * *

Ralen barely managed to block the downward cleave of a Dremora's claymore. As the Dremora used his blade to push him back, Ralen kicked out. He heard a satisfying crack as his foot connected with the Dremora's unguarded knee, and slashed blindly. With a howl of pain, the Dremora collapsed to the ground, trying to stem the flow of blood from its slit neck.

Wasting no time, Ralen rushed onward. Avoiding the arrows and flame that the daedra sent at them from the balcony, he huddled behind a ruined house's wall with the rest of the group. The few daedra that hadn't been killed by them were regrouping, and they were pinned down by the Dremora on the castle's battlements. Their group had lost two guards already, and the rest were fairly wounded. Ginette was cradling her right arm that sported a large tear from a clannfear's teeth. She had bound it with a strip of cloth from her shirt, but it was still bleeding badly. If they didn't manage to move soon, they would all die.

"Captain! What's the plan?"

Savlian Matius glanced at him, his eyes burning with an angry desperation. "We have to get into the castle, but the gates are closed. We could get into the guardhouse and open the gates from the inside, but Berich Inian has the keys in the chapel."

Ginette carefully shifted her arm and leaned forward to speak. "Ralen and I have a chance of getting to the chapel safely. We aren't weighed down as much by our armor...if we run fast enough, we'll make it." Ralen nodded in agreement, and moved further away from Ginette. If they were grouped together, they would be more likely to receive an arrow in the back.

The Guard Captain exhaled harshly and shook his head. "You better run pretty damn fast."

Taking that as agreement that their plan was sound, Ralen charged forward in a zigzagging run. Arrows zipping by him, he slammed through the doors with an almighty crash, Ginette hot on his heels. Panting for breath, he hurriedly closed the doors and turned to see Tierra, a male guard that he presumed was Berich, and four Imperial Legion Soldiers staring at him.

The Redguard helped Ginette up from her collapsed position on the floor, mindful of the injured arm.

"We saw the smoke from the Gold Road and came to help." One of the soldiers explained, seeing the Dunmer's questioning eyes.

"Good, we need all the help we can get." Ralen said grimly. "Berich, do you have the guardhouse key?"

The male guard looked at him with a wary expression. "Yes, I do. What do you need it for?"

His patience wearing thin, Ralen gritted his teeth and replied, "We need to get into the guardhouse to open the gates. The rest of our group is huddled outside taking cover behind a wall from the daedra on the battlements."

Berich's face paled, and his jaw set. "I'm coming with you. I can show you the way, and I still have fight left in me."

Tierra stepped forward, determination in her brown eyes. "There is no way I can stay behind after what those demons did to my home. I'll fight until my last breath, Dunmer."

Ginette grinned weakly. "Well, the more the merrier. Are we all ready?" Seeing their nods of confirmation, they grouped together, and Berich lead them to the undercroft.

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Ginette wrapped another bandage around her dripping arm, grateful that only a few scamps had been in the undercroft. Checking to make sure that the bandage was secure, she waited for the rest of their group to take care of their respective injuries.

Seeing that they were finished, she stepped out into the remains of the burning city. Several minutes and battles later, Ginette was cursing her existence. Another blade had torn open her left leg on the way to the guardhouse, she'd been hit by a paralyzing spell, and her hair had nearly been set on fire. Now she was facing a ladder.

Muttering to herself in a mixture of pain and anger, she climbed upward, wincing with every step. She collapsed on the stones of the castle, her skin rejoicing at the rain after being stuck in the tunnels to the guardhouse, with flames surrounding her. She hauled herself to her feet, ignoring the hand an Imperial Soldier offered her.

Ginette gripped her sword as Ralen opened the gates, and prepared to enter the courtyard. The gates slid open easily, and Savlian Matius wasted no time in rushing his men forward. The guards charged past them, and Ginette joined their murderous stampede. There were few daedra in the courtyard, which probably meant they were all in the castle. She fought as well as she could with her wounded limbs, thankful that more people had joined their battle. They had lost Berich in the city, but the rest remained alive and drew attention away from her. Without them, she had no doubt that she would be dead.

* * *

Ralen stepped into the castle, looking at Ginette with concern. Her leg and arm were still bleeding, despite the bandages. It would need to be taken care of, and quickly. He dived aside as a scamp's fireball took him by surprise, the heat searing his skin. The daedra in the throne room charged at them, murder in their eyes. As they reached the middle of the burning room, Ralen noticed the steel chandelier. Quickly pulling himself up from a crouch, he shouted to the Imperial Legion Archer.

"Tyronius, the chandelier!"

The archer wasted no time in hesitation. He aimed quickly, and let an arrow fly. The arrow flew swiftly through the air, all eyes upon it. It easily sliced the rope holding the chandelier, and it came crashing down. A quick-thinking Dremora and fire atronach leapt out of the way, but the rest were crushed. Ginette hastily slid her sword into the fire atronach's unprotected back, and it died with a small puff of smoke. The last Dremora was easily dispatched by another arrow from Tyronius. Tierra openly stared at Tyronius for a moment, then turned to the Guard Captain. "Where to now, sir?"

Matius pointed at the stairs leading deeper into the castle. "We have to find the Count, and bring him back. If he's still alive..." He muttered, his voice trailing off darkly. Keeping their weapons unsheathed, they moved forward.

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Ginette wrinkled her nose as they fought their way deeper into the castle, almost thankful for the pain of her wounds. At least it helped to keep her mind off of the castle's foul odor of urine, blood, and smoke. The whole thing smelled of death. Stepping carefully in between the flames, she leaned toward Ralen and whispered quietly, "I don't hold much hope for the Count. If he's survived this, then nothing can kill him."

Ralen nodded grimly in agreement, but said nothing as the guards moved closer to them. Ginette pushed the door of the Count's bedroom open, and immediately noticed the red reflection of flames on a pool of blood. She held her hand up, and turned around to face Ralen. Ginette shook her head. Ralen sighed quietly, and moved to tell the guards.

She made to follow him, but a sudden pain in her gut stopped her. Ginette looked down at the blade that had gone completely through her back, and cursed her stupidity. Dark spots were beginning to cloud her vision, and she let out a small whimper as she slid to the bloody floor.

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I normally wouldn't update so soon, but my friend died yesterday. Writing is a safe haven for me, I guess. Expect more updates. I would appreciate it if you read the memorial on my profile...I want people to know she existed.


	13. Healing and Wounds

Ginette woke up slowly with a cold pain stabbing in her abdomen. Her arm and leg felt stiff, and agony burned in the deep tears when she tried to move them. She gasped, and more jolts of pain shot through her stomach. A cool hand rested on her sweating forehead, and a man softly whispered a sleeping spell. Ginette sighed, and fell gratefully into the warm embrace of sleep.

When she woke again, the pain had faded into a dull, throbbing ache. Not wanting to face the light, she kept her eyes closed and made to sit up in her bedroll. Before she could even begin to straighten, a hand gently held her down.

"Don't sit up; you'll rip your stitches. Believe me, it won't feel good."

Ginette hadn't particularly wanted to move anyway, so she decided to do as the voice said and stay still. She opened her eyes, and a blurry face swam slowly into view. "I know you...you're the priesht, Martin." She mumbled, accidentally slurring the words.

He smiled slightly and replied, "I'm a priest, actually."

Ginette glared at him, promising herself that she would smack him once her arm got better. Partly because of his comment, but mostly because she wanted to say that she'd hit the Emperor. Anticipating the priest's beat down happily, Ginette was completely taken off guard when Martin began to lift her ragged shirt up.

She batted his hand with her good arm, saying indignantly, "Wait a moment there, Mister. You need to buy me at least one drink first."

Martin's face turned an interesting shade of tomato red as he explained hastily, "No! I have to check your bandages."

Ginette snickered at his mortified face, and grinningly said, "All right then. Go ahead and take a look-see."

Martin exhaled quietly, and lifted her shirt, keeping his eyes trained on the off-white bandages.

"You were lucky. The blade didn't hit any major arteries and didn't pierce your stomach."

He gently poked the bandage, ignoring her yelp of pain. After examining her belly wound for a few more moments, he inspected her arm and leg. "The potion and spell are healing these quite nicely. They're still not in prime condition, but it shouldn't get infected. The most you have to worry about is a couple of scars."

Ginette nodded her head, not too bothered. She had a lot of scars from her childhood anyway, due to her bloody bastard of a fa-Martin's soft voice interrupted her angry thoughts, bringing her back to the present. "Líadain is doing well. I believe that she is coming to see you in a moment; Ralen is explaining what happened. She woke up a around noon."

Ginette blinked. The last time she had seen Líadain awake, it had been dark. She looked around the tent. A small bedroll gave her scant protection from the stones on the ground, and Martin was sitting on a little stool beside her. A good amount of light was shining through the tent flap, showing that it must be daytime.

"How long was I out?"

Martin shook his head slowly. "I'm not entirely certain. You woke up once during the stitching, and I had to cast a sleep spell...it would have been cruel to keep you awake when you were in that amount of pain." He glanced at the tent's opening, biting his lips in thought. "I think it has been nearly a day...two for Líadain."

Ginette gasped, and sat up quickly without thinking. A small scream escaped her lips, and she fell back. Martin moved swiftly to her side, reaching into a pocket of his robe as he did so. He withdrew a healing potion, and knelt down. Ginette opened her mouth, intending to tell him that she would rather be knocked unconscious than swallow the drink. The priest quickly took the opportunity to pour the potion down her throat.

Spluttering, Ginette was forced to swallow, despite the foul taste. She glared at him and spat, "Don't you know what they put in there!? Aloe vera leaves and deer meat!"

Martin looked down at her, his blue eyes amused. "I didn't figure you were a person that enjoyed alchemy."

Ginette began to shrug, but remembered her wound in time. "I'm not. Frankly, I prefer a blade. Lía was ranting on about it."

He looked at her in surprise. "Her? I wouldn't think her the ranting type...much too quiet."

The Breton snorted in disbelief. "Believe me, she can talk your ear off about something she likes."

The tent flap swung open, and Líadain stepped through, carefully avoiding the burnt down candle on the ground. Ginette's eye widened, and she could barely manage to whisper a low, "Speak of the devil."

The Bosmer's dirty blonde hair had been cropped close to her head, so that it was less than an inch in length. Líadain self-consciously ran a hand over her nearly bald scalp, her face turning red.

"I-I h-had to have it cut off, so t-they could get to the wound." She stuttered out, turning so Ginette could see a dark red spot on her skull. Martin glanced between the two women, and discretely slipped out.

Líadain quietly walked over to Ginette, and knelt where she was patting the ground. The Breton reached out and lightly brushed a hand over the fuzz on her head. "I think it's beautiful, Lía. About an inch more, and you'll look like a pretty little sprite."

Líadain gently shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Thanks, Ginette. I really shouldn't be so upset; it's just hair, and you were nearly killed."

Ginette sighed slightly, and held out her arms to hug Líadain. The Bosmer reminded her so much of her little sister, Marie. They had the same hair color, the same ivory skin, and they were both so fragile. As Líadain cried in her arms, Ginette patted her on the back. She hadn't been able to save Marie, but she would die before she let Líadain down.

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Isaac: Thanks, you have no idea how much that means to me. I appreciate the reviews as well.

There will be a part two of this chapter, but I didn't have time to post it. It should be up by tomorrow sometime.

To all who went to see the memorial: A big hug, and many thanks. I'll change my avatar from the flowers once the real ones bloom.


	14. Healing and Wounds Part 2

Líadain took a heaving breath, and gently leaned away from Ginette. "How bad is it, anyway? All Ralen said was that you'd been hurt pretty badly."

She didn't really look so bad. Her hair was sweaty and falling loose about her shoulders, and she had dark circles under her eyes, but appeared mostly healthy. Ginette grimaced, and held up her bruised and bandaged arm. Líadain winced in sympathy.

"You're lucky. It could have been a lot worse than it was."

Ginette smirked, and lifted her ragged shirt up so Líadain could see the wound. The Bosmer's face whitened at the large bandage, and she shakily whispered, "Just a few inches to the left, and you would be dead, Ginette."

Ginette shrugged, her face nonchalant.

"But I'm not. Besides, it doesn't hurt that much unless I try and stand or something stupid like that."

Líadain shook her head in disbelief at how calm Ginette was after her brush with death. 'Do you know when you'll be well enough to travel?"

Ginette shook her head, thinking. "Not for two days at least."

Líadain bit her lips worriedly and said, "We have to get Martin back to Jauffre as soon as possible. The longer we stay here, the more danger we're in."

Ginette muttered a low curse, and glared angrily at her wounds. "You're right. Lía, tell Ralen that I'm holding you back. You two will head to Jauffre with Martin, and I'll meet up with you later."

Líadain stared anxiously at her for a few moment, wringing her hands. "Alright. We'll be there once you're well enough to travel."

Ginette smiled, and waved her away. "I'm a little tired. You tell Ralen, and I'll meet up with you later."

Líadain cast one last worried glance at Ginette, and quietly stole out of the tent as the Breton fell asleep.

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Líadain stepped out into the sunlight, shielding her eyes with her hands as she looked around for Ralen. The Dunmer was chatting idly with Tyronius around the cold stones of a burned out fire, appearing rather on edge.

She carefully took a place next to him, and lightly placed a hand on his armored shoulder. Ralen held up a hand to Tyronius, and turned to face Líadain with a concerned expression on his dark face. "How is she?"

Líadain took a deep breath, and brushed a hand over her scalp. "She's asleep right now, but seems to be healing."

Ralen face relaxed slightly, and he cleared his throat. "How are you?"

Líadain shook her head, eyes downcast. "I'm alive."

Ralen awkwardly shuffled his feet, unsure of what to do. He couldn't understand the loss she felt; in his opinion, it was just hair, and that would grow back. Hoping that it was completely strange, he made a rapid decision and held out his arms. Líadain looked at him in confusion, but leaned against him. His heart thudding, Ralen desperately tried to banish his traitorous thoughts as he wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head on his shoulder. Mentally berating himself for this breach in his vow of not becoming close to a party member, he quickly let her go.

Líadain gave him an odd look, but didn't comment.

"What did Ginette say? How soon can we leave?"

The Bosmer glanced back at the tent, and replied, "She said we should go on without her, and meet up later. She doesn't feel that she will be well enough to travel for a while."

Ralen wasn't surprised; gut wounds were nasty. "I don't like leaving her here, but she is right. Our main priority is delivering Martin to safety."

Líadain glanced around the camp until she felt a small tug on her hand, and Ralen pulled her after him. Seeing that she was following him, he let her go and strode up to Martin.

"Are you ready to head out?"

Martin sighed, and nodded. "I believe so. I assume Ginette will meet us later?"

Líadain quietly replied, "Yes."

Ralen checked that they were all ready, and their group left the ruins of Kvatch.

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There are a few things wrong with this chapter.

1: It's late.

2: It's short.

3: I don't feel that it is too great.

Ah, well. Finals are coming, so I won't be able to update much. Please leave a review.


	15. Disturbing Dreams and Painful Mistakes

* * *

Ralen shifted painfully in his saddle, trying to ignore his fatigue. Líadain's head jogged rhythmically against his back as she dozed, and he carefully secured her arms back around his waist. It wouldn't do to have her fall off the horse and worsen the concussion. He glanced over at Martin, who seemed to be sharing in his pain. They'd been riding for at least three days, and he was looking forward to washing his hands clean of this whole business. Ralen wasn't entirely certain of what he would do next; he doubted that the Fighter's Guild would have him back after the last job. Ralen's face darkened and he clutched the reins tightly as his thoughts drifted to a most unwelcome place.

_Ralen stepped lightly through the cave mouth, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness. Eydis followed in his footsteps, her battle axe held steadily in her hands. Camas guarded their flank, his sword held at the ready. Ralen didn't expect this to be hard; it was just a simple bandit hideout. He consciously relaxed his muscles as he crept through the cave, on the lookout for any traps. His last job had had an overabundance of them, and he'd gotten a nasty scar from one. He smirked as he stepped over a tripwire, signaling for the others to be wary of it._

_As he turned to continue forward, a flickering light caught his attention. He followed cautiously after it through a tunnel, smiling as he saw the bandit's campfire. There were few of them, and none were paying attention. It would be the easiest money he'd ever made. Ralen counted the number of bandits again, and quickly made his decision. Without bothering to check in the shadows, he charged into the camp._

Ralen took a calming breath. His mistake had cost two people their lives, and nearly claimed his. It was only sheer luck that he'd been able to escape when the rest of the bandits poured out of the shadows. Ralen frowned to himself, trying to shake the memories. He didn't enjoy dwelling on old wounds. Líadain sleepily tightened her arms around his waist, bringing him back to the present. Ralen glanced over at Martin, but he seemed to be lost in thoughts of his own. It was understandable; after all, he'd just been told his whole life was a lie and daedra had destroyed his home in their search for him. Ralen didn't particularly wish to yank him out of his thoughts, but he would probably want to know that they were close to Weynon Priory.

"Martin."

Martin glanced over to him, his eyes clouded. "We're nearing Weynon Priory."

Martin nodded silently, retreating back into his thoughts. Ralen sighed quietly to himself; it didn't seem that he would be rescued from his boredom anytime soon.

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_Líadain backed up against the sewer's stone walls, staring at her blood-coated hands. She hadn't meant to do it...it was an accident! She dropped onto her knees, whimpering as the sewer toppled around her. The towers of Oblivion rose up into the stormy sky, their tops piercing the heavens. As Líadain wrapped her arms around her head, a rabbit scampered across the barren landscape. Its gentle eyes turned to her, and Líadain gave a warning cry as a Daedroth leapt at it. As the beast opened its jaws to snap up the rabbit, a sudden keening rent the air. Líadain screamed in agony as her heart turned to ash inside her body, and she collapsed to the ground. As death overtook her, she opened her eyes as the rabbit. As Oblivion itself began to shake, wings split out of her back. The Daedroth's blood coated her feathers as she slashed it with her great talons, and she soared into the air with a shrill call._

Líadain jerked awake with a gasp, accidentally digging her elbow into Ralen's side. He yelped as she hit a particularly painful bruise, and turned to her with a grimace. She blushed sheepishly, muttering a quiet sorry.

"It's fine. Did you nearly slip?"

Líadain tilted her head to the side questioningly. "You gasped, as if you were falling."

The Bosmer shook her head. "No, I just had a bad dream is all. How close are we to Weynon Priory?"

Ralen glanced at a bend in the road with a smile. "It's just around that bend, thankfully. I'm rather tired of riding."

Líadain nodded her head in vehement agreement, stifling a yawn. As they neared the bend, the shepard, Eronor, came bolting toward them, terror written plainly on his face.

"Help! Help! Please, we were attacked without warning!"

He stumbled as he neared them, and fell forward with a Daedric dagger buried in his spine. Ralen cursed, slinging himself down from his horse.

"Martin!" He tossed the Daedric dagger to the priest, drawing his own sword in a fluid motion. Martin and Líadain dismounted quickly, following Ralen.

Jauffre was backed up against the well, fighting desperately against two assassins with daedric armor. Ralen took advantage of their distraction, quickly stabbing one in the back. His brother turned to face the new threat, and was swiftly dispatched by Jauffre.

He yanked his blade back and yelled to them, "Quick! There are two more in the chapel with Brother Piner!"

Líadain raced after them as they headed to the chapel, a healing spell on the tip of her tongue. Ralen slammed into the chapel door, knocking it aside easily. His heart grew heavy as he saw Brother Piner collapsed on the altar, his blood filling the offering bowl as the assassins surrounded him like crimson vultures. Martin muttered a spell, stretching his hands toward the assassins. A fireball flew outward, catching one on fire. The assassin fell to the ground, screeching as his skin started to scorch. Ralen kicked him in the ribs, then stabbed him in the neck. His pained cries faded to gurgles, then quietly ceased.

The other assassin snarled in anger and lunged for Líadain. The Bosmer gave a startled gasp, grasping his metal-plated face in an effort to keep his blade away. She murmured a few words, taking a deep breath as his energy flowed into her. He fell to the floor, his muscles too tired to hold his weight. Jauffre stared coldly at him for a moment, then drove his blade into his back. Their daedric armor vanished with a golden glow, turning into familiar red robes.

Jauffre stood still, breathing heavily. His face drained of color in realization and he whispered darkly, "The Amulet."

He rushed out of the chapel, leaving them no choice but to follow. They burst through the doors of the lodge, and sprinted up the stairs. Jauffre dropped to his knees in front of the chest, and slowly opened it. He closed the chest almost immediately and rose up, his face grim.

"They have the Amulet." He said, his voice like a stone wall, cold and hard. "I should've known they would find it...I did not think them that powerful. I will judge correctly, next time."

Ralen leaned against the wall, his eyes calculating. Martin spoke up, asking the question they were all thinking. "What now?"

Jauffre sighed. "It isn't safe for you to stay here. As soon as they realize you still live, they will come back. Cloud Ruler Temple, the Blade's hidden fortress in the mountains of Bruma should give us some time. It will not hold forever, but it is better than here. We should leave at once."

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Happy Late Valentine's Day, everyone! Thanks for sticking with me, and taking the time to review. I would never be able to do it without you guys!

Lord Diago (Isaac) : Congrats on creating an account! It took me forever to finally create on of my own. As soon as I have time, I'm going to check out what you've written.

**Reviews are obsessed over!**

**(I almost forgot! Check my profile for the poll, if you will. Pretty please?)  
**


	16. Fear and Dread

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Líadain hunched by the fire, huddling deeper into her woolen blanket as a thin snow began to fall. The flames danced wildly, their orange wings flickering in the wind. She stared at them silently, her thoughts far away with Ginette. They had agreed to meet at Weynon Priory, but they had been forced to move. She couldn't even leave a note telling that the plans had been changed, as it could easily fall into the enemy's hands and reveal their destination. The flames hissed, and she flinched as ashen hands dropped more kindling onto the fire.

"Sorry. I did not mean to startle you."

"Oh. It-it's alright."

Ralen knelt down beside her, stretching his hands over the fire.

"Where are Martin and Jauffre?"

Ralen glanced at her, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I believe Jauffre is attempting to convey all of Martin's new responsibilities." A small smile crossed his dark face and he continued, "I do not envy either of them."

Líadain laughed softly. "I doubt that many people would."

A comfortable silence reigned for a few moments before Ralen asked quietly, "How are you? You were looking rather lost when I came over here."

Líadain sighed slightly. Ginette wasn't something she wished to bring up; it would only raise more problems and they had enough of those already. She considered for a moment, before deciding not to mention it. "No, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all; I don't look forward to traveling tomorrow."

Ralen chuckled. "Nor do I. We don't have much further to go...a days ride and we will have reached Cloud Ruler Temple."

Líadain crossed her arms, her mood souring quickly. "And then what, Ralen? What can we possibly do?"

"We help them in whatever way we can."

She snorted, and jabbed the fire with a loose piece of kindling. "I suppose you're right."

Ralen eyed her carefully for a few moments, as if he was trying to see into her mind. "You want to wash your hands of this, don't you?"

Líadain threw the stick away, an angry cry escaping her lips in a puff of white mist as the kindling jabbed into her hand. She cradled her hand, trying to ignore the painful throb.

"It-it's not that simple, Ralen...I-I want..." Tears slipped from underneath her lashes, and she turned her head away with a sniffle.

Ralen gently took her hurt hand, wrapping a torn piece of shirt around the cut.

"What do you want?" He asked, focusing on the make-shift bandage.

She replied quietly, her voice choking on sobs."I-I w-want to live...a-and I c-can't see that h-happening if I k-keep following this road." She finally faced him, her teary eyes locking onto his crimson ones. "I'm scared, Ralen."

He held her hand, gazing into her eyes. She reminded him of a fawn that had been wounded by a wolf. Her dark eyes had the same terrified, hunted look in them that made her fragility all the more visible.

"Listen, Lía. We've closed a gate to Oblivion itself...we can survive anything after that." Líadain stared at him. He seemed so sure, and she so desperately wanted to believe him.

"Do you really believe that?" She asked, a tiny smile fighting its way onto her lips. Ralen hesitated for a moment, then drew her into an embrace.

"I do."

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Ginette collapsed by the well at Weynon Priory, exhausted and covered in dust. She'd been walking for nearly six days, and only arrived now. She had to hand it to Martin, those healing spells and potions had sped her recovery. She sat by the well for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath. She may have been healing nicely, but there was still a dull ache in her gut. Ginette frowned, looking around. It was rather silent. Even the shepard seemed to have vanished. A vague feeling of worry began to clench onto her heart, and she stood up to investigate.

Ginette strode up to the chapel, her footsteps quickening as she saw the broken door. She rushed into the chapel, spinning around to find it empty. A grim realization began to set in, and she sprinted to the lodge, wary of what she would see. "Jauffre?" She called out, her voice cutting through the thick silence. Ginette approached the table by the stairs, carefully picking up the note that rested on its surface.

_Mother,_

_Please don't worry. The Elder Council knows what it is doing. Uriel was an old man. They knew he wouldn't live forever, and I'm sure they had plans for the succession. Of course, now with the three princes dead, it's not clear who will be the next emperor, but it's happened before -- there are precedents, I'm sure -- and anyway, Ocato and the Council have been running the Empire for the past 15 years anyway. So there's nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine.  
_

_I don't know what you've read or heard, but here at the Priory everyone seems to think it must have been madmen or witches or crazy cultists. It doesn't look at all political. It's horrible and depressing, but the Empire will survive. There will not be rioting or civil war or another Warp in the West. So please. If you like, go stay with Uncle Korr and Aunt Harrah on the farm for a while. But I'm certain you'll be perfectly safe in the City. I'll try to get down to visit as soon as possible. And I hope to hear from you soon.  
_

_Your loving son,  
Piner_

Ginette studied the note a few seconds more, then gently placed it back on the table with a sad smile. She didn't know what had gone down at Weynon Priory, but it couldn't have been anything good. She turned to head up the stairs, when a gloved hand forced a rag over her nose. Ginette slammed an elbow backward, desperately trying to hold her breath. She struggled for a few moments, then slowly fell into darkness.

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I felt like I had to have another update pretty soon. Hope you enjoy it!

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	17. Forged in Flames

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Ginette woke up in bleary pain. Her head felt as if it was about to split apart like an overripe melon and her face was on fire where the rag had touched her. She gingerly touched around her nose, hissing in pain as her fingers brushed against several blisters. Deciding that it would be better not to irritate them more, she tried to figure out where she was. Cave walls surrounded her, lit up by a bloody red light. She noted with great depression that a solid iron cage would prevent her from escaping.

"No mad killing sprees for me, then." She croaked out, her voice raspy.

"You wake."

Ginette glanced up, wincing as her neck cracked. She rubbed the back of her neck, glaring at the red-robed Altmer that stood outside of her cage. "Damn right I do, you little s'wit."

He stared passively at her for a moment, then said quietly, "You should not insult your betters."

Ginette grinned, ignoring the pain that it caused. "I'm not."

Mocking someone who could kill her at a moment's notice probably wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, but she didn't particularly care right now. The Altmer paced slowly over to her cage, stopping outside the locked door. He ran his hand over the bars, smiling down at her.

Seeing that he wouldn't rise to her bait, she snapped,"Where am I?"

"You are in a place of worship. More than that, you do not need to know."

Ginette raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the rock wall that her cage was built around."I didn't ask **what** this place was. I asked **where **I was. Do you mind giving me a straight answer?"

The Altmer frowned, ignoring her question. "Most people in your position would become a sacrifice. But you...you are special."

Ginette sighed in frustration. "I think being a sacrifice would be preferable to listening to you. Tell me, did they have to endure a conversation as well?"

He continued on, a distant look in his eyes. "I always did find you interesting, Ginette. Even when you were but a child, I knew you had great potential."

Ginette stared at him, a nagging memory fighting to form.

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_Ginette clutched the dagger tightly, her heart drumming in her head as she kneeled by mother's grave. A small rock served as a headstone, the only reminder that she had ever existed. Ginette slammed the dagger into the stone again, slowly chipping out the last letter in her mother's name. _

_**Genevieve Hartlet. **_

_Ginette stared back at her home, rage burning in her heart. She was the one who should have been lying cold in the ground. She was the protector; the strong one. She'd leapt into the fray when her mother was too weak to shield them any longer, taken every beating that she could so her mother and sister wouldn't have to._

_She stashed the dagger in her boot, and strode back to the house. Her father was sitting at the fire, talking quietly to a raven-haired Altmer. "Yes. She died a week ago."_

_The Altmer looked up as she came in, a pitying expression on his face. He crossed the room in two quick strides, holding out his hand. "Julien was telling me of your mother. I am sorry to hear her recent passing, child." _

_Ginette took his hand, swiftly painting an appropriately sad, well-adjusted mask. "Thank you. It will be difficult without her, but...we'll manage somehow."_

_Her father stood up, his own mask secure. "This is my eldest daughter, Ginette. Ginette, this is Master Mankar Camoran."_

_Ginette smiled politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Camoran. I only wish that it could have been under different circumstances."_

_Mankar nodded his head, a somber look in his eyes. Her father cleared his throat in the silence and asked gently, "Ginette, would you please go fetch some wine? Preferably the Surilie Brothers Vintage 399." _

_She fought to keep her voice from shaking with anger as she said softly, "Yes, sir." _

_Ginette strode out of the room and headed for the cellar, lingering for a few moments by the door to listen in. Her father didn't receive many callers, it strained his little web of lies. This one had to be important. "Your daughter has grown considerably since I last saw her." _

_A small grunt as her father sat down again and he replied, "She cannot be converted, Master. She is far too headstrong. She will not follow anyone or anything."_

_A sigh came from the Altmer and he murmured, "Still...one such as her would be a great asset. Truly, she has been forged in fire."_

_Ginette rushed down the stairs as she heard her father stand. If she was caught listening in..._

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Ginette stared at Mankar Camoran, her face shocked. "**You.** How could...everything that happened that day...how could I not remember?"

"To be fair, a great deal of things happened that day. A stranger visiting would hardly stand out."

"It was rhetorical. What in the hells were _you_ doing there?"

Mankar laughed incredulously. "You still do not know? Your father was a member of our church...the Mythic Dawn."

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**A/N**: Reviews would be nice. I would love to have thirty. Overall, not just for this chapter. I would probably die of shock if I got thirty for this chapter. It would be a good death though. Review overdose? Hmm...I'll try and update on Saturday. I love all who read and review! Not in a creepy way, though.

Review please?


	18. Keep the Cold Away

Ralen sat comfortably next to Líadain, his arm resting around her shoulder. He told himself silently that it was for warmth, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the contact. He gazed into the distance, where Martin seemed to be arguing with Jauffre. Ralen debated for a moment whether he should intervene, before deciding that it was none of his business. He turned to Líadain, watching as she rifled through her black pouch. She smiled in satisfaction as she snagged a metallic flask, and took a quick gulp. She dragged her arm across her lips, then held the potion out to Ralen.

"Do you want a drink? It helps keep the cold away."

He nodded, bringing the potion to his lips. He shivered involuntarily. The drink stung, running through his veins like liquid fire. "Thank you."

Ralen carefully replaced the potion cork, then handed it back to Líadain. He watched quietly as she tucked it back into the pouch. "How did you get into alchemy? Was it a family thing?"

Líadain shook her head, gazing pensively into the fire. "No. I was apprenticed to an Altmer, Sinderion, who was in the trade. I had always been interested in alchemy."

She grinned as she continued, "My mother would get so irritated because she could not keep me from stealing plants from her garden. Eventually, she decided to send me to Sinderion."

Ralen nodded, wondering out loud, "How old were you?"

She sighed, but a smile was hidden within it. Stretching her hands out to the fire again, she murmured, "Young."

_Líadain hid behind her mother's skirts, whimpering. She peeked out at the Altmer, ducking back with a blush as he smiled. "So this is little Lía? She has grown much since I last saw her." _

_ "I know. I could swear that she will be as tall as me at summer's end." __her mother grinned, gently ushering Líadain out._

_Sinderion's gaze traveled up and down Líadain's mother's body. "I doubt that would be much of a feat, Faldana." _

_Faldana snorted, playfully smacking Sinderion on the shoulder. "I believe your perception is distorted from being up so high." _

_The Altmer shook his head with a laugh, conceding the argument. "Perhaps. How long shall Líadain be with me?" _

_Bored with the conversation and slowly becoming used to Sinderion, Líadain glanced around the room. Cloves of garlic hung from the ceiling, their pungent odors invading the room and mixing with the sweet smell of the lavender that rested on top of a table, next to Sinderion's workplace. A bed sat by his workplace, and Líadain wondered how he could stand sleeping in a room that smelled so strongly. Several barrels littered the room, words etched into their surface. She could read them, but their words made no sense to her. Bloodgrass, aloe vera, harrada...nothing she had ever seen before. _

_Líadain gasped in surprise as her mother drew her into a hug. "I will be back for you later, love. Follow Sinderion's rules, and please try to stay out of trouble." _

_Faldana kissed Líadain's forehead, then turned and walked out, tossing one last worried glance over her shoulder as she left. Líadain watched her go, her eyes wide and scared. Sinderion sighed slightly, wondering if he had made a mistake in accepting the small Bosmer as his apprentice. She was quite young...he shook his head. Faldana had raised her daughter well, she was no doubt older than her years. Besides, she apparently had shown great interest in alchemy and he always enjoyed someone that shared his passion for the trade._

_Seeing the child's fear, he smiled comfortingly at her. She blushed darkly, and dropped her gaze to the floor. He chuckled quietly, then gestured to his workstation. "Come, my dear. I'll show you a few tricks of the trade."_

Líadain shook herself out of the past and stared quietly out into the darkness, watching as Jauffre gestured vehemently at Martin. She wondered for a moment what they were speaking of, then turned to Ralen. "What about you? Where did you learn to handle a sword?"

Ralen's eyes hardened and he said abruptly, "Fighter's Guild."

Líadain nodded her head, confused by his curt answer. Ralen sighed, seeing her hurt expression. "Forgive me. It just isn't something I really wish to talk about."

She stared at him for a moment, then said quietly, "I understand. If you ever feel like telling me about it, I'd listen gladly."

Ralen tightened his arm about her, considering. To talk to her about what had happened would invite pity, something he hated. Still...perhaps she wouldn't pity him. He came to a decision, and started, "I mi-"

Jauffre stormed into camp, Martin following him with a despondent expression. Jauffre said nothing, but went immediately to his tent and vanished inside. Martin sat next to Líadain, gazing darkly into the fire. Líadain looked at him warely for a moment, then silently drew the metallic flask out of her pouch and offered it to Martin.

Ralen cursed inwardly. He had been close to telling her...he wasn't certain if he was grateful for the interruption or not. He looked at the Bosmer, wondering how she had changed from an annoyance to someone he had nearly revealed his past to.

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This is probably going to be the only update for awhile, I'm going to be buried in work. A big hug to all my readers and reviewers! (Yes, the cookie option is still available.)

Please review!


	19. Miss Murder

Many thanks to Canna for her lovely reviews, and the milk and cookies!

Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion.

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"You still do not know? Your father was a member of our church...the Mythic Dawn."

Ginette stared at Mankar Camoran in shock. For the briefest moment, pain shone in her eyes. She recovered quickly, her face becoming nonchalant. "And I care why?"

Mankar looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips. "I thought you would be interested in the family religion, my dear."

He made to continue, but Ginette cut him off. "You were right. It just gives me another reason to feel good for what I did to the bastard."

Mankar nodded, the smile fading from his face as he continued, "You had all the reason in world for what you did...but it should not have come to that. I knew Julien was unstable, but I never believed that he would kill your mother."

Ginette slowly raised her head, gazing coldly at Mankar. "You...you knew what was happening, and you didn't bother to help?"

Ginette quivered with anger, desperate to latch her fingers around his neck and squeeze until he fell down dead. Mankar gazed down at her sadly. Quietly, he said, "I am sorry, Ginette. I wish I could have intervened. Truly, I do."

She hurled herself against the iron cage, snatching at his robes. Mankar leapt away, barely avoiding her grasp. Her voice hoarse with rage, Ginette screamed, "You fetching bastard! If you had done something, my mother and sister would still be alive!"

Mankar frowned down at her, his eyes hard as the iron that caged her. "Do not cast the blame on me, child. Did I beat your mother to death? Did I burn your house to the ground while your sister was still inside?"

Ginette's grip on the cage bars tightened, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. Her head hanging low, she whispered, "Get out."

Mankar stood silently, making no move to leave. Conscious of the hot tears pricking her eyes, Ginette felt panic beginning to rise within her. She angrily slammed her palms against the bars, raising her voice, "GET OUT!"

Mankar sighed and approached her cage. He drew open the cage door, and took a seat beside her on the rocky ground. She kept her face turned away from him, still fighting to keep her tears at bay. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder, lightly enough to offer comfort without thrusting it upon her. "Marie's death was not any fault of yours."

Ginette stared away from him, tears falling silently down her face as she struggled to bring herself under control. "I caused the fire that killed her. How is it not my fault?"

_Ginette wiped a rag over the small table, cleaning up her father's spilled wine. The Altmer had left hours ago...all she had to do now was wait for the right moment. She quickly checked for her father, though she knew there was no reason. He would probably stumble in from the tavern soon, but until then she had a good few minutes. _

_She carefully slipped the dagger from her boot to her apron pocket, concealing the bulge with the wine-soaked rag. Ginette glanced around the room, satisfied that everything was in place. Just one more thing to do. Casting one more glance at the door, she made her way to her sister's room. Ginette knocked, then entered the room when no one answered. _

_Marie was curled up in her bed, her long blonde hair covering her face. Ginette quietly made her way across the room , carefully sitting beside Marie on the bed. She gently stroked Marie's hair, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. Marie smiled in her sleep, murmuring, "Mama?"_

_Ginette's breath caught in her throat, and a slight sob escaped her. She rose hurriedly as Marie shifted uncomfortably, terrified that her sister would waken. She locked Marie's door, tucking the key into her other pocket. As she quickly strode back to the living room, she heard the front door slam._

_A slurred voice called her name, and Ginette grasped her dagger for reassurance. Her father staggered into the room, his breath reeking and his shirt soaked with alcohol . She took a deep breath as he approached her, trying to disguise her emotions. He seemed to be fairly calm tonight, something she was thankful for. This would be much harder if he was taking swings at her. He walked past her, barely sparing a glance as he slumped down into the chair closest to the fire. Ginette took a seat next to him, watching his unusual behavior. He stared into the fire, his eyes distant. _

_Ginette grasped the bottle of wine she had set out, pouring him a drink. "Would you care for some wine, father?"_

_He jumped slightly and turned to look at her. He took the wine, but didn't raise the cup to his lips. "I'm sorry, Ginny." _

_Ginette dropped the wine bottle in shock, barely registering the sound of the glass shattering. Her father glanced at the wine as it spilled across the floor, his expression unconcerned. "I-I never meant to go that far. I never wanted your mother to die." _

_Ginette's lip curled in anger and in one swift movement, she had pressed the dagger's edge across her's father's neck. "How far did you mean to go, then? Just enough to make her scream? No...you don't get to be sorry, **father**._

_She yanked his head backward, slashing his throat deeply. With a grunt, she tossed his body forward into the fire. With an burst of heat, large hands of flame snaked around his ale-soaked shirt. They traveled quickly, leaping to the puddle of wine on the wooden floor and catching the furniture on fire. Ginette cried out, casting her apron onto the flames in an attempt to smother them._

_Fear clenching her heart in its cold grasp, she raced for Marie's room. She fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to find the key. Her breath coming in sharp gasps, Ginette realized with horror that she had left the key in her apron. She looked back to the living room, but could only see an inferno. Tears streaming down her face, Ginette hurled herself against the oaken door. It shook, but still stood resolute. She backed up and hurled herself against the door again, but it held stubbornly._

_The smoke was thickening around her, causing her to cough. She threw herself at the door again, calling, "Marie!"_

_For a sickening moment, no one answered. Then, a scared voice rang out from the bedroom. "Ginny!"_

_"Marie! I-I need you to-" Ginette trailed off; she didn't have a plan. She rested her head against the door, trembling as the heat began to scorch her skin._

Ginette shook, her body wracked with sobs. "Do-do you know what I did then?"

Not bothering to wait for Mankar to answer, she whispered, "I ran. I ran, and left my little sister to burn."

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Next chapter will probably be another wait.

I hate to do this, but it must be done. A whiny!author stint. I have a lot of readers, but only got one review last chapter (from the lovely Canna) and this makes me feel like this :(, which is bad. Actually, the frownie is a bit too sad, but you get the point. So please, take a few seconds to review.


	20. Follow The Leader

**SQUEE! 47 reviews! A million thanks to Sanima, Chikalila, Canna, and Lord Diago. Look down to the bottom for a more elaborate thank you. :)**

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Ralen spurred his horse onward up the rocky trail, grateful that he did not have to walk. The snowy path was treacherous, and he had no doubt that his horse was more sure-footed than he could ever even hope to be. Slight discomfort was infinitely preferable when compared to a broken ankle or leg. Ralen sighed, shifting in his saddle. The journey had been quiet; Martin and Jauffre seemed to be lost in their own thoughts, and the last time he'd glanced over his shoulder at Líadain, she had been staring distantly into the forest. He wondered to himself how much farther they had to go; they had passed Bruma a while ago, and were now deep in the mountains, so he couldn't see it being much further. Growing tired of the silence, he called to Jauffre, "How much longer, do you think?"

Jauffre glanced back at him, then pointed ahead to where the trail turned, winding around a frosty crag. "Not far. After we pass this bend, you'll be able to see the temple."

Líadain sighed in relief, murmuring, "Oh, good. I'm so cold..."

She tightened her arms around Ralen, resting her cheek against his back. The Dunmer nodded his head in agreement, watching in amusement as Martin's face drained of colour. Almost unconsciously, Martin straightened up, as if afraid to show his anxiety. Ralen smirked; it seemed that leadership truly was in the blood. His father had always said that being a leader meant keeping a calm facade, even when you were just as terrified as everyone else on the inside. Ralen cast his eyes down as a pang of sadness ran through him; if those words were true, then his father had been a born leader.

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Líadain squinted her eyes, trying to ignore the glare of the sun reflecting on the snow as the small group wound their way around the crag. She couldn't believe that they were so close to the end of their journey. Privately, she wondered what she would do when this whole mess was over. After all she'd seen, she just couldn't picture herself returning to Skingrad and Sinderion as if nothing had happened. But then, a life of adventuring certainly wasn't for her. She sighed mentally. She almost wished that none of this had happened, just so she could go back to being happy with her life of potions and musty old books. Líadain sighed again, bringing herself out of her thoughts as they rounded the bend.

A tiny gasp escaped her as she got her first sight of the temple. It was beautiful and terrible, resting upon the mountain like a great beast of wood and stone. Guards hailed them from their posts upon the spires, cheering as they saw their future Emperor. The doors were heaved open, granting them entrance. They dismounted, a stable hand coming immediately to take care of their horses. A crowd of guards had gathered on the sides of the path, their faces solemn as Martin and the group ascended the stairs.

Jauffre stopped as they reached the top of the stairs, and turned to address the Blades that had lined up along the side of the path. Seeing that he had their attention, he called out, "Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope! Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim."

The Blades drew their swords, raising them into the air as they hailed Martin. Jauffre waited for the cheers to die down, and continued, "Your Highness, the Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne."

Jauffre bowed and led Ralen and Líadain away to the side, leaving Martin alone to address the crowd. Liadain smiled sympathetically as Martin looked to them with a panicked expression. Jauffre nodded his head, and Martin turned to face the crowd. He cleared his throat once, twice, three times, then slowly began to speak.

"Ah, well, thank you. The honor is mine. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best. But this is all new to me. I am unused to giving speeches. I simply wanted you to know I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. Ah…that's it. Thank you."

Jauffre looked on proudly and began to clap. Ralen followed him, until everyone had begun to clap. Fervor spread through the crowd, fueling the embers of hope within them until it was a raging bonfire. Martin flushed a dark red, and stepped aside.

"I didn't think it much of a speech. I suppose they're just grateful to have even the slightest amount of hope."

Jauffre shook his head. "You gave them what they need, Martin. Someone to follow."

Martin sighed, but nodded. "I hope that I can live up to their expectations."

"Even if we do not live through this, you will have tried your best. That alone is enough for them to think highly of you." Ralen said. To him, Martin had proven himself to be a great man when he accepted the burden. At any time, he could have abandoned them and left the world to its own devices, and yet he did not. Even if had given up the cause, Ralen would have thought only a little less of him. He couldn't condemn a man for wanting to live.

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Líadain glanced up at the darkening sky and turned to Jauffre. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gently touched him to get his attention. "Jauffre?"

They turned to her and she said quietly, "Where will we be sleeping? I'm rather tired."

He frowned in thought for a moment, then smiled as his brow cleared. "I believe that we have a few spare rooms. However, I would have a word with you and Ralen before you retire."

As Ralen and Líadain watched, he waved a hand and called a Blade over. The Imperial strode over to them and Jauffre said, "Cyrus, show Martin to his quarters."

Cyrus nodded, leading a somber Martin into the temple. Jauffre watched them leave, then turned back to Líadain and Ralen. He looked them over for a moment, and stated, "You have both proven yourselves more than worthy to protect the Empire. I have decided to offer you the chance to join the Blades."

Líadain's eyes went wide in shock, her hands hanging limply at her sides. Ralen simply stood there, disbelief in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow. Simultaneously, they spoke, "What?"

Jauffre seemed unsurprised by their reactions and calmly said, " I understand that this is a monumental decision; not one that you would make lightly. I merely ask that you consider my offer."

Líadain still stared at him blankly, but Ralen crossed his arms in thought, the cogs of his mind openly spinning. He slowly unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he did so. "I am honored that you think us worthy, Jauffre. However, as you said, this is a life-changing decision. Please, allow us more time to think about it."

Jauffre nodded. "I understand. I will show you your sleeping quarters. We rise early tomorrow; we will need to figure out our next course of action."

Ralen gently took Líadain's arm, leading the still stunned Bosmer after Jauffre.

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**Sanima: Wow. First, let me say thanks. You probably have no idea just how much your reviews mean to me. Everyone, a round of applause for such a wonderful person. *claps* I've noticed that my writing has changed, I think I've improved. There seems to be a trend to it, also. There was a marked improvement after I took some classes. I think that definitely showed me a few things I was doing wrong. **

**Canna: I can pretty much count on you to leave a few words, and that is really nice. I love your reviews, too. Even if they can be a bit graphic. Perhaps that's part of the reason I like them so much. :)**

**Lord Diago (Isaac): Have a cookie. I've got plenty. Your reviews are always such a joy to receive. Not to mention, you prod me to keep updating, something I definitely need a reminder about at times. Thanks for the wonderful words!**

**I don't have time to single anyone else out, so I will offer a thank-you net that extends to all of my readers and reviewers. I'm probably going to go through all of my reviews tomorrow, and PM everyone I can with a response. The anonymous people will be left another response the next chapter. So, yeah. Don't be too surprised if you get a message tomorrow.**

**Don't forget to click the review button!  
**


	21. Light

Ginette cradled the book in her hands, absent-mindedly running her hands over the red leather cover. Her fingers stroked the slight bumps of the golden letters, spelling out "Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes: Book One". Mankar had left her the book, along with a few comforting words.

_Mankar gazed down at her, his eyes calm and contemplating. Ginette clenched her jaw, prepared for whatever might come, be it harsh judgement or a dismissal of her responsibility. He stared at her for a few more moments, then spoke quietly. "I am sorry. You should not have to bear guilt for what happened. It was an accident. A terrible accident, but an accident nonetheless." _

_Mankar shifted his weight, withdrawing a book from a pocket in his robes. He handed it to her, murmuring, "We are a family, Ginette. Would you like to start anew with us?"_

_She stared at the book, her eyes narrowed, but she did not draw away. "After what you've done? Your so-called **family **murdered the Emperor and tried to do the same to me."_

_Mankar closed his eyes, bowing his head. "We had to. Sometimes the end does justify the means."_

_He rose to his feet, gesturing at the book. "Read it. Everything will be explained."_

Ginette took a deep breath, opening the book and beginning to read by the soft crimson light in the caverns.

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_Ralen strode quickly down the worn path, his steps too hurried to admire the beautiful countryside. Shadows stretched over the fields, meshing with the smoke rising from his home. He rushed forward, pushing the front door of the cottage open. Furniture was strewn everywhere. The table was overturned, its wood smashed apart. The windows were broken inward, the glass shards covering the floor. A patch of blood was splattered upon the stone floor, its red streaks leading down through the scattered remains of the cellar door. Ralen hesitantly took a step down the stairs, carefully grasping a piece of glass for some illusion of safety._

_He made his way down the stairs, the darkness sweeping over him until he could see nothing. He nearly gasped as his feet hit the floor, wincing as the glass cut into his palm. Ralen stood still, shivering as he heard a rough snort. He felt something nuzzling his leg, and he jumped, releasing his make-shift weapon. The glass crashed to the floor, the shatter splitting through the silence. He turned, racing back up the stairs. His breath came hard and fast, his heart beating wildly in his ears, but he could still hear a loud bellowing following his footsteps.  
_

_He tripped at the top of the stairs, falling forward out of the cellar, cutting his hands upon the broken glass that was scattered on the floor on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, closing his eyes against what he saw. His mother was impaled upon the remains of the rafters, her normally dark skin pallid and blood-streaked. Ralen turned away, but could find no escape. His father laid spread-eagled in a pool of blood upon the floor, as if he were a broken doll. Ralen fell to his knees, retching. A loud creak came from the cellar, and the blood in his veins was replaced by fear. He crawled backwards away from the cellar, frantic tears running down his cheeks as his back hit the wall. Ralen huddled in the corner , turning his face away from the hulking shadow that pulled itself from the darkness of the cellar._

Ralen bolted upright in the bed, a sheen of cold sweat upon his body. He ran a hand through his black hair, pushing it away from his face as he tried to still his rapid breathing. A knock rang out on the door, and he wearily pulled himself from the bed, dressing quickly and pulling his armor on.

Jauffre was waiting outside, pacing impatiently. As soon as he saw Ralen, he spoke. "There is no time to waste. I just received a letter from my intelligence in the Imperial City, Baurus. He said that he had learned something important, but dared not put it into a writing as someone has been following him."

Ralen straightened up, his gaze questioning. "Could it have been about the assassins? The Amulet? We need to retrieve the information as soon as possible."

Jauffre smiled. "That is where you come in. I need you to pay a visit to Baurus at Luther Broad's Boarding house in the Elven Garden district of the Imperial City. As speed is key, your horse has already been readied."

The Dunmer winced mentally at the thought of the long ride awaiting him, but nodded. "What of Líadain?"

"She believes that she will be of more use here, a sentiment that I agree with."

Ralen acknowledged the point, turning towards the stables.

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A/N: Sorry for the long wait, everyone. The whole update tomorrow thing didn't quite work out. Unfortunately, I won't be able to update until the school year, but that's not that far away. Also, review replies!

**Sanima**: Thanks so much! I really feel like I'm getting better with the story. And pottery? Totally true, but you left out accidentally spilling your slip bucket on yourself in front of everyone. :)

**Paintball Willie**: I think I might just have you beat. For starters, my clay came off the wheel and hit someone else in the head, but not before I knocked my bucket of slip over. My bowl ended up as a spoon holder, too. Oh, well. In other news, I would have loved to see them wearing the Knight Helmet.

Review please!

Oh, I almost forgot. There's a new poll up, and I need your opinions.


	22. Before the Storm

Líadain pulled the Nirnroot out of her pouch, carefully placing it upon the table. She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together as she looked at the alchemy set before her. She didn't really know where Jauffre had gotten it, and couldn't be bothered to ask. It was of a better quality than anything she'd ever had when she was with Sinderion. Unfortunately, it was useless without ingredients. Jauffre had promised to send someone to guard her while she, as he put it, "went digging through the snow for flowers." All she had to do was wait for that person to turn up. Líadain absent-mindedly brushed the leaves of the Nirnroot, smiling as the ringing sound grew more pronounced.

"What an unusual plant."

Líadain started, turning around to see a Blade. He held out his armored hand, giving a gentle handshake. "I am Captain Steffan. You must be Líadain."

She nodded. Getting caught up in this mess had done wonders for her social life, even if death did hide in every shadow. "Did Jauffre send you to help?"

"Yes...when do we leave?"

Líadain glanced once more over the table, then slipped the Nirnroot back into her pouch. It wouldn't do to have some overly curious person come in and make off with it. She checked the dagger on her hip, hoping fervently that she wouldn't have to use it. The Emperor's death and her travel through Oblivion still haunted her; Líadain didn't want to more blood on her hands.

"I'm ready to head out now."

* * *

Líadain winced as they left the temple and the frigid wind bit at her face, silently wondering how the Captain could so easily stand the cold. Ralen was lucky to have left a few days ago, before the storm hit. Even now, the blizzard having passed, a chill lingered in the air. She pulled the the hood of her new cloak around her face, taking a breath of relief as the wind lost its power. Never had she been more grateful to a human being than when Jauffre had given her the fur-trimmed outfit. Líadain grinned wryly; she doubted that she would be as happy when they trudged back into the Temple, the snow soaking and freezing their feet even as the fireplaces roared.

She walked beside Steffan, treading carefully around the patches of ice. She didn't want her backside to make an acquaintance with the ground, after all. As Líadain finally relaxed, trusting in her ability to catch herself if she began to slip, she noticed the utter quiet. The wind had stilled and a hush had fallen upon the forest, the silence broken only by the crunch of their footsteps. She smiled; it would be peaceful, if not for the bitter cold.

Steffan spoke, his voice boomingly loud and out of place. "What are we looking for, Miss?"

Líadain shrugged. "Anything I can use. I don't expect to find much, but even a few mushrooms would be welcome."

She cast an eye around, scowling. As far as she could see, snow and trees were the only things in this place.

Steffan shook his head. "I'm afraid you won't find anything here. After the storm last night, it'll all be buried." He frowned slightly, his brow creased in thought. "I believe your only hope is the Hestra Rune Stone. For whatever reason, plants seem to grow more thickly there. Even with the snow, you're likely to find something."

He strode off, gesturing impatiently for her to follow. Líadain rushed after him down the path, her steps hurried by the slick ground. She caught up to him quickly, at the price of what felt like several pounds of snow in her boots. Líadain let loose a string of mild curses as she felt the cold begin to seep into her feet, but Steffan immediately hushed her, a finger at his lips. She followed his eyes, a quiet gasp escaping her as she saw the recent footprints in the snow.

Líadain frowned in thought, whispering, "Another Blade, perhaps?"

"We have not had any patrols as of late...no, this is either a bandit or a spy."

As he spoke, Líadain felt the sharp edge of a dagger pressing into her throat.

* * *

Ralen sighed as he looked up at the sign of Luther Broad's Boarding House. The place where it had all begun. He pushed open the wooden door, his eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the darkness of the inn. Ralen saw Baurus immediately; his broad, burly frame stood out in a crowd of farmers and bar maids. He approached casually, taking the empty seat next to the Redguard.

Baurus seemingly paid no attention, but Ralen saw his eyes flick to a man hunched over in a corner table. Ralen gave a fraction of a nod, an imperceptible acknowledgment. Baurus stood up, stumbling slightly, as if drunk. His steps uncertain, he shambled over to the cellar door. He fumbled for a moment, then stepped down the stairs and into the darkness.

After a moment, the man in the corner stood, the lantern light falling with a flash on the steel of a dagger. Glancing around, he followed Baurus down the stairs. Ralen went after them, pushing his way through the sea of people. He opened the door to the basement, wincing at the loud creak of the old wood. Baurus was leaning against a post of wood with his eyes closed, apparently unaware of the armed man approaching.

Ralen carefully leapt over the rail of the stairs, landing in a crouch. He drew his dagger, though he hoped not to use it. This man could be useful to them. The man lunged at Baurus, and Ralen threw himself into him, knocking him to the ground and straddling him. For a moment, fear flashed in the man's eyes. Then a small smile spread itself across his face, and he plunged his own dagger into his chest. Ralen cursed, and Baurus sighed as he saw the man become still.

Ralen climbed off the man, avoiding the blood that steadily pooled out.

Baurus moved away from his post, and said, "Check his body. He might still have something of use."

Ralen nodded, and it wasn't long before he found a small red book on the corpse. He rose up, reading the title emblazoned on the book's cover. _Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes: Book One_. Wordlessly, he tossed it to Baurus.

Baurus examined it, his lips drawing tightly together as he flipped through the pages. He shut the book, and turned to Ralen. "This confirms it. I tracked down some leads, all pointing to the assassins that killed the Emperor being part of a daedric cult, The Mythic Dawn. Apparently the worship Mehrunes Dagon. I guess they noticed I was after them."

He smirked, and handed the book to Ralen. "What news do you have?"

Ralen shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line. "There is barely any good news. We safely retrieved the heir, but the Amulet is in the hands of the Mythic Dawn."

The smirk faded off of Baurus's face, to be replaced by a dark frown. "That is not good news...but thanks Talos that Martin, at least, is alive. In any case, we have no chance of taking back the Amulet if we can't find the cult. I suggest talking to Tar-Meena, at the Arcane University. From what I've heard, she knows quite a bit about daedric cults. I will stay back, and attempt to run down some more leads."

Ralen started back up to the main floor of the inn, but turned back to gaze at the bloody cellar. "Should I tell Luther that his cellar needs cleaning?"

Baurus chuckled. "Be sure to stand a healthy distance away when you deliver the message."

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Sorry! This took forever to do. I might have a second part up today, but I have to go calls. :(

**Please leave a review!**


	23. Stains

**If anyone was wondering last chapter, that was supposed to be work calls. Whoops. **

**Anyway, a big thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Reviewers get a cookie too though. **

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Líadain stumbled as she was yanked back by a strong arm, a shrill scream catching in her throat. Steffan turned, his blade drawn.

"Come any closer, and I'll slit her throat."

Líadain shivered at the feminine voice. It was colder than the steel at her throat, and just as dangerous. She had no doubt that the woman would follow through without a thought. Steffan seemed to share that opinion, as he lowered his sword and stood still. The blade nicked into Líadain's skin, and she sucked in a breath as a small bead of blood slowly trickled down her neck. The Bosmer closed her eyes, and desperately tried to concentrate. She was already in contact with the woman; all she needed to do was calm down long enough to cast a spell of burden. Everything seemed to grow still; even the frantic beating of her heart quieted as her hands began to glow. The power flowed from her and into the woman, magnifying the weight of all that she was carrying. The woman grunted as she struggled to stand under the crushing load, but eventually fell to her knees in the snow, the dagger landing beside her with a heavy thud.

Líadain quickly stepped forward, safely out of reach. She stood beside Steffan, frowning as she got a first look at her attacker. The woman was collapsed in the snow, her brown skin coated with a sheen of sweat. She struggled to stand, her every movement punctuated with a labored groan. Steffan strode over, and harshly kicked the woman in the ribs. She cried out in pain, and rolled over onto her side. Steffan took the opportunity, quickly laying his blade on the Redguard's throat.

"Who are you?"

She chuckled quietly. "You'll get nothing out of me. Any pain you could inflict would be doubled by my Master, if I told. I have nothing to fear."

* * *

Steffan nodded shortly, and struck the woman in the head. Knocked senseless, her body went limp. The Blade picked her up, slinging her body over his shoulder as if she weighed less than a feather. Líadain frowned slightly; she had thought that her burden spell would last longer. Silently resolving to practice more, she followed Steffan back up the steep path.

Ralen walked up the stairs to the Arch-Mage's lobby, wincing at the loud crackling in the air. Someone was obviously shaping up on their destruction skills nearby. He raised an eyebrow as he went over a large glyph that had been carved into the stone, wondering at its purpose. Shrugging off the thought, he stepped through the lobby door. Ralen stopped for a moment in surprise. He had almost expected people to be wildly casting spells, or doing insane experiments. Instead, it was almost...normal. The only hint of magic that he could see was a glowing portal in the corner.

Shaking his head slightly, Ralen cast an eye over the room, looking for Tar-Meena. A young man and woman sat on a bench, talking in hushed whispers, while another man was hunched over, poring over a book. Ralen frowned; none of them looked a likely candidate. As he stood pondering his situation, a scaly gently tapped him on the shoulder.

Ralen turned, coming face to face with an Argonian. Small horns jutted out of her head, colorful cloth adorning them. A kindly expression was upon her face, and her orange eyes shone with warmth. She spoke softly, though her voice was still marked with the roughness of an Argonian's speech.

"May I help you?"

Ralen nodded. "I hope so. I am looking for someone named Tar-Meena."

"Ah. I am most certainly the best person to help you then. I am Tar-Meena," she smiled. Gesturing for him to take a seat on a nearby bench, she continued, "what do you need?"

"I am looking for a cult, and I heard that you would be the one to talk to. What do you know of the Mythic Dawn?"

Her eyes widened. "You know of them? They are one of the most secretive daedric cults...there is not much to be found about them. Yes...yes, you were right to come to me. I will tell you what little I can. From what I have discovered, they follow the teachings of Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. His is a name you will find even less often than that of the cult's. Tell me, what interest do you have in the Mythic Dawn?"

Ralen took out the book he had retrieved from the assassin's corpse. "I found one of their books, and now I need to find them."

A light dawned in Tar-Meena's eyes, and she smiled. "You work with Baurus, don't you? Do not worry, I will not pry. Official business and all that. I'm used to helping the Blades. Now, finding them won't be easy. Not at all. I have studied Mankar Camoran's writings a bit myself, at least enough to know that there are four volumes. Unfortunately, I have only ever managed to see the first two books."

"Could anything in them point me to the cult?"

She shook her head. "I believe that the books may contain hidden clues that would lead you to their shrine, but you would need all four. Apparently, finding their shrine is the first test to be initiated into the Mythic Dawn."

Ralen sighed and stood up, Tar-Meena following him. She held up a hand, telling him to wait for a moment. She closed her eyes, and vanished with a barely audible popping noise. A moment later she re-appeared, a book in hand.

"Here. You can have the library's copy of Volume 2. Please, be careful with it. It would be a hassle to replace. I cannot help you with the other two books, but I might know someone who can. First Edition, in the Market Place. Phintias has a wide selection of rare books, and caters especially to collectors. He will most likely either have the books, or know where to find them. Let me know if you find them, alright?"

Ralen nodded. "Thank you for all your help. I'll make sure to tell you if I do."

Líadain walked with Steffan into the Temple, keeping a careful eye on the Redguard. She doubted that the woman could do much without a weapon, especially when surrounded by Blades, but a little caution never hurt. Steffan marched up the stairs, stopping when Jauffre hailed him.

Jauffre's face darkened as he saw the woman, and he breathed a small sigh. "A spy?"

"Yes sir. We found her near the Hestra Rune Stone."

"You know what you have to do, Captain."

Steffan glanced surreptitiously back at Líadain and then to Jauffre, his eyes questioning. Jauffre caught his gaze, and nodded. Líadain frowned at the silent exchange, but didn't ask. Whatever test had gone on, she seemed to have passed, as Steffan said, "Come with me, Líadain. There is something you need to see."

Apprehension making her body tense, Líadain went after him. The fireplace crackled cheerfully as they stepped inside, beckoning to her, but Steffan lead her away from it, instead heading to a heavy wooden door. Guards looked up curiously as they crossed the main hall, but turned away as they saw the woman's body. As Líadain and Steffan left through the wooden door, whispers broke out. Líadain strained to listen, but could only hear a dull babble.

Scowling in irritation, she turned her attention to where they were. A staircase stretched out in front of them, its stone walls lit by lanterns hanging on hooks from the walls. It was sturdily built so that no draft could find its way in, just like the rest of the Temple, but Líadain shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. The feeling reminded her of an old house in Skingrad. The house was always locked, but people still kept their distance. Líadain had always assumed it was due to the rumors; that the house was haunted, and ghosts walked its halls. Out of curiosity, and a false sense of bravado, she had strayed near it and found out the truth. The place felt...ancient. As if its walls had seen ages come and go, and you were nothing more than a moment. Just one speck of dirt in an all-consuming dust storm.

Líadain shuddered again, and hurriedly chased after Steffan. As much as she wished to leave this little hallway, it would be worse to lose pace with him. She caught up with him quickly, resting a hand upon the back of his armor. He turned his head, giving a small smile.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, "it's always like this."

As they made their way down the stairs, she kept her hand safely on him. No matter what he said, she needed something solid. Something to remind her that even while her life was just a second in the span of things, someone would remember her.

They reached the bottom fairly quickly, in part due to Líadain urging Steffan to hurry. If she stayed in this place a moment more, she felt that she would suffocate under the weight. Steffan knocked on the door, his gauntleted hands grating again the wood of the door. As he waited for an answer, he turned once more to Líadain.

"What you see will not be pleasant. I have no doubt that it will horrify you, but Jauffre is right. You deserve to know the whole of what we do, even the darker side. When we swore to protect the Emperor...it was at any cost."

As he spoke, the door swung open, and a man stood silhouetted in the light. He surveyed them for a moment, then said in a weary voice, "Two?"

"No, just one. This woman is Líadain; Jauffre thinks that she should know the reality of things."

The man nodded, though Líadain could not make out his expression; the shadows were cast strangely on his face. "Come in."

The man stepped aside, allowing entrance. Steffan paused briefly in the doorway, clasping the man's shoulder and murmured, "I am sorry, Miles."

Miles chuckled lowly, and the sound was perhaps the most pained thing Líadain had ever heard. "It's my job, and I'm the best person for it."

Steffan seemed about to speak, but shook his head and gestured for Líadain to follow him into the room. The Bosmer hesitated slightly; after all the warnings and grim looks, she would much rather have turned back. She took a fleeting look back, and made her decision. What met her eyes was terrible. A large room was sprawled out before her, with a blood-stained restraint chair in the center. Metal instruments were hung upon a wall and strewn across a table, their wicked edges gleaming.

"By Akatosh! You're torturers! You're no better than them!"

Steffan looked away from her accusing gaze, but Miles roughly took her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. Líadain slapped at his hand, but his grip was too strong, and she gradually stopped, mesmerized by his eyes. They were haunted, their green depths seemingly tinted red by the blood that he had spilled.

He leaned closer, and his every word was a raw hiss. "_Never_ accuse me of being like the scum that is dragged in here. I do not enjoy what I do. Not a night goes by when I don't awaken a cold sweat, trying to escape their screams. I do it out of necessity...if I did not force them to speak, no one would be safe. If some of these people had their way, children would be dragged off the streets, found only when their bloated body washed up on a bank. Watch your accusing tongue next time, Bosmer."

He let her go, and Líadain cast her eyes down, rubbing her jaw. Miles gazed at her for a moment more, then turned to the restraint chair. "Strap the woman down and go, Steffan."

Steffan did as he said, carefully tightening the restraints around the Redguard's wrists and ankles, then began to leave. Líadain made to follow him, but Miles held up his hand.

"You're to stay and help me, Bosmer."

Líadain stared at him incredulously, and whispered weakly, "What? No...I-I can't be here for this."

Her mind spinning, she barely registered the door closing as Steffan left, hearing only Miles's next words. "You know nothing, and yet you wish to help us fight a _war_?"

"I'm an alchemist, not a torturer!"

Miles sighed, and took a small, thin blade off the wall. He held it out towards her, and said quietly, "Just a small cut. She unconscious and won't even feel it."

Líadain shook her head, backing rapidly away from the blade. Miles was faster, and took her wrist, forcing the blade into her hand and pushing her toward the restrained woman.

"Cut her!" he barked.

A whimper escaping her lips, Líadain gently lowered the blade to the woman's arm, making a small incision. Blood slowly welled up from the cut, and she closed her eyes.

Miles urged her on, saying, "Again."

Líadain made another slit in the woman's skin, nearly retching as more blood appeared. As her blade sliced in, the woman woke up, a hoarse yell escaping her. She strained against the straps, fighting wildly. Líadain jerked back in surprise, her blade digging in far deeper than she meant it to. Blood flowed freely and the woman screamed in pain. Panic filled her dark eyes as they flitted around the unfamiliar room, slipping over Miles and landing on Líadain. A rough laugh echoed around the room, and she snarled, "You. The nasty little witch...oh, I wouldn't have thought you even had the nerve."

Miles stepped forward to the chair, a cup in his hands. He stood beside Líadain, his expression cold and calm. "What is your name?"

The Redguard narrowed her eyes, and spit at him. Miles stepped aside, and took a handful of salt out of the cup. His expression unchanging, he slathered salt over the Redguard's wounds. The woman screamed again, and Líadain closed her eyes, covering her ears. The woman panted, and breathed out, "Fine! It's Jearl!"

"Do you live in Bruma?"

Jearl shook her head, sweat trickling down her body.

Miles sighed quietly. "No, you don't live there, or no, you won't tell us?"

Jearl looked around wildly, her eyes widening as she saw her bloody, badly mutilated arm. "By the Master! My arm...my arm! I'm-I'm bleeding; there's too much fetching blood! Oh, Gods!"

Her voice was choked by sobs, but Miles merely frowned slightly. "I will ask one more time. Do you live in Bruma?"

"Yes! Yes, I do! _FETCHING HELP ME_!"

Miles gazed at her for a moment, then said to Líadain, "Kill her."

Líadain tightened her grip on the blade, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "She told us what we asked! Let her _go_!

"Even if we let her go, she's going to die. No one here would help her, and she would die before she reached Bruma." He strode over to the table, picking out a delicate black potion.

Líadain stared at him, sickened, as he handed the potion to her. Miles pushed her to Jearl, urging, "The potion is painless. If you don't give it to her, I'll simply let her bleed out."

Jearl was tensed against the restraints, tears flowing silently down her face. As Líadain bent near, she looked up, her dark eyes blinded by agony and fear. Her voice a mere whisper, she said, "Please...please, just let me go. I just want to go."

Líadain gently brushed Jearl's hair away from her face, and the woman gratefully drank the potion offered. As her body began to slump forward, she murmured, "I think...see...Paradise..."

Líadain stood numbly for a moment, her hands slick with blood. She gripped the dagger tightly, and slowly turned to Miles.

"You...you _bastard. _We could have saved her. We could have saved her," her blank gaze traveled up his body, until her brown eyes met his own green ones and she continued, "and you forced me to kill her."

Anger flared in her eyes, and she screamed. Clutching the dagger tightly, she lunged at Miles. He easily side-stepped her, and quickly pinned her to the ground. Líadain fought viciously, snarling with fury. Miles panted with the effort of holding her down, finally knocking unconscious with a blow to the head. The Bosmer lay still, Jearl's blood was painted upon her, stealing whatever innocence had survived Oblivion. Miles moved away and knelt in the Redguard's blood, his head in his hands.

He gazed at Líadain at whispered, "Now you know how to commit the worst crimes, even when you don't want to."

A bitter laugh escaped him, and he moved to the alcohol cabinet. Someone would come down later to clean up, and he had no intention of being awake to see it.

Ralen sighed as he strode into the First Edition bookstore. He had seen enough of the Imperial City to last him a lifetime, and it looked like he could be here a good while longer. He approached Phintias, the Redguard proprietor, who gave him a quick once-over, no doubt evaluating how much money he could hope to get from a dust covered Dunmer. Ralen smirked, noticing the smile that formed as the man heard the clink of money from his bag.

Phintias gave him a welcoming nod, and said, "I am Phintias, the owner. If you cannot find what you need here, I can almost certainly acquire if for you. Now, did you have anything specific in mind?"

"Yes. Would you happen to have the Mysterium Xarxes?"

"Ah, you must mean Mankar Camoran's _Commentaries on the Mysterium_ _Xarxes_. A common mistake, I assure you. Now, it comes in four volumes. The first two can be found from time to time, but the last books are impossible to obtain. Which ones are you looking for?"

"Volumes Three and Four. Would you happen to have attempted the impossible lately?"

Phintias chuckled quietly. "I do actually have Volume Three, but I'm afraid I already have a very eager buyer. Came all the way from Valenwood to get the book. Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if I gave it away. However, if you are truly persistent, you could wait here to talk to him. He had an appointment and should be here in a matter of moments. Please, feel free to browse while you wait."

Ralen had barely taken a step before the store door opened, its bells tinkling merrily as a Bosmer entered. He watched as Phintias handed the book to Gwinas, then followed the Bosmer back out. Ralen swiftly caught up with Gwinas, laying what he hoped was a nonthreatening hand on his shoulder. Gwinas swiveled around, startled.

Seeing Ralen, he snapped, "What is it?"

"The book you just got from Phintias. I would like to buy it, if you're willing to make a deal."

The Bosmer hugged the book to his chest, glowering. "It isn't for sale. You'll have to find another."

Ralen grimaced in irritation, and replied, "I need yours."

Gwinas shook his head as he backed away, clearly looking for a guard. His annoyance finally getting the best of him, Ralen grabbed the Bosmer by the front of his robes, clapping a hand over his mouth and yanking him into a small alley. Gwinas yelped, but his cries were muffled by the Dunmer's hand.

Ralen held the Bosmer down, and growled, "This daedric cult you're trying to join? The Mythic Dawn? They killed the Emperor, you fool! Just give me the book, and tell me how to find Volume Four, alright?"

Gwinas's mouth dropped open, and he sputtered for words. "They-they killed the Emperor? Sweet Mara preserve me! I swear I didn't know! Listen, take this note. I had set up a meeting with my Sponsor, as he called himself. That's the only way to get Volume Four. The note will show you where to go. Please, just let me leave."

Ralen stood up as the Bosmer left, carefully holding the new book and note. He began to open the note, then folded it back. Baurus would want to see it. The Dunmer cautiously looked out of the alley in case Gwinas had gone to the guards, and began the walk back to Luther Broad's Boarding House.

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I would leave review replies, but I am extremely exhausted. So yeah. I had something long planned for each of you, but it's gone now. I can just barely remember what I was going to say to Canna, so I'll do that now.

**Canna: **You review like every single chapter, so there is no way I would ever complain. Hope you enjoyed your vacation! :)

Anyway, I'm probably going to go sleep for a bit, and then I'll write more replies. Hopefully they'll make sense. :)

**This is, officially, my longest chapter ever. Anyway, I literally spent hours writing it, and it takes about a minute to review. So please, do so.**


	24. Rewrite

Okay guys, you may have noticed the ongoing lack of real updates. Here's the thing: right now, I have a lot invested in this story. It's my first post on this site, and it's my longest writing to date. So, I really, really don't want it to die. And yet, I'm less than happy with it. I feel as if I've progressed, and I want my work to reflect that. Lately, I've been pondering what to do, and I think I might go back and revise it from the ground up. It would be more than I'm doing now, at least, which is basically just sitting here and pulling my hair out in frustration. :) No matter what I decide, something will happen soon.


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